


Loyal

by 6wingdragon



Series: The Neverwere Moments [3]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drama, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Mystery, Redemption, Romance, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-06-29 04:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 244,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19822528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6wingdragon/pseuds/6wingdragon
Summary: All is well. There are no more secrets to uncover, no lies to correct.  Everything is resolved.  Pay no heed to that whispering doubt in the back of your mind or that itching curiosity in your heart.  This is Loyal, following Trustworthy and Brave, but there are no unspoken words to hear, nor untold tales to listen to; these moments never were.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I was a bit torn whether this first section should serve as an epilogue for Brave or a prologue for Loyal but settled on the latter because it sets up some fun themes and ties in with the section immediately after it. That said, enjoy!]

The overhead sounds of a helicopter directed Finnick’s ears like sunflowers at noon, so he spared a split second to glance up from behind his shades. Conifer District didn’t have much in the way of air travel, and such a small vehicle could only have originated from one place: Knotash. What it _meant_ to the sandy-furred fox, he couldn’t say… he was never one for deductions; that was Nick’s spiel. Finnick dealt with numbers, data, _facts…_ things he could calculate and manipulate to get probabilities and patterns. What _those_ meant, he couldn’t always say either, but being around Nick for as long as he had, he picked up a few other _spiels_ , nasty habits that he’d be crazy to do, and crazy to _not_ do; gained methods that could not be unlearned, and witnessed logic that could not be unseen. That’s what it was like knowing the Wildes, one of the craziest families of foxes in the city… and all that entailed.

One of those ‘shroom-on-a-stick vendors was across the street, its pungent herbs and spices were like staring at neon to the sensitive schnozz of a fox, like Finnick… He saw a wolf standing in line for their turn to order, and he wondered why _they_ \-- whose nose far outclassed a fox’s -- could stand the stench, much less eat it. It was a trifle of no consequence, so Finnick instead arrived at his destination, and with a sigh far heavier than his small frame should be capable of, he read the sign: Suitopia. It was the suit shop of John Wilde, a fox who was like a second father to him for most of his life, and like a brother to his own dad, Shane Faire; honestly, he was probably one of the reasons they were both still kicking. Uncle John was just that sort of fox.

The flight of stone steps were behind him before he knew it as Finnick quite casually opened the shop door with a homely jingle, thus venturing inside and removing his sunglasses; it was just good manners to do so. His ears flicked again to a light-hearted conversation between the tailor and some clientele, but instead of stewing in his impatience Finnick busied himself with a collection of vests he’d not yet had the chance to peruse. It was that week before which Mr. Big, notorious crime lord of Tundratown, had finally decided to bring him in as a private technician and number cruncher, and also brought in John Wilde to suit him up, as was custom for all new hires of his inner circle. It was perhaps the most awkward situation of Finnick’s whole life, to not only make amends with the arctic shrew that at one time wanted both he and Nick dead but to do so _without_ Nick _and_ while he was out of town; that’s nothing to say of how he felt about meeting Uncle John before Nick had a chance to bury the hatchet. Presently, however, Finnick recalled all the vests the tailor purposed to have, and idly thumbed through them.

John’s voice clarified as the fitting room door opened. “And it was only _then_ that she realized that she was _standing_ on it!” he declared, promptly followed by the breath-catching laughter of an armadillo doubling over in merriment, begging for a ceasefire before he stood and wiped the corner of his eye. Their formalities of departure were brief (if between chuckles) with an estimated time of completion relayed; nothing out of the ordinary. John locked the door after walking his customer out, though, and from the sounds of it also flipped the sign for early closing. “Oscar,” came a paternal cordiality, “I didn’t expect to see you again so _soon_. Need some touch-up work done? That bowling shirt of yours _could_ do with a stitch or three.”

“Nothing like that,” Finnick said and put back the colorful vest that was such a contrast to his purposefully unremarkable streetwalking duds of the aforementioned attire, an undershirt, and a drab pair of khakis. He permitted _very_ few to call him by his first name, reminded as he was when it was bellowed at unnatural octaves and regular intervals in his childhood. Even with Uncle John’s easy-on-the-ears voice, its utterance still gripped his spine, if less and less as the years went on. “Can we talk?” he asked as he peered over a shoulder.

“Oh, certainly, right over here,” John permitted, flicking a thumb at the other fitting room on his way to it, already followed by his son’s best friend. He wore an off-white collared shirt with the unbuttoned cuffs folded back, a peppery-gray vest with charcoal pants and bowtie; all-in-all, the red fox looked pitiable but cheery, especially since his youthful athleticism and vibrancy had since succumbed to the onset of age-related bulking and silvering. “Go ahead and get comfy, I’ll be right with you,” he instructed while offering a chair near the door so that he might walk to the center of the room’s pedestal on which clients stood to be measured, and the adjacent stool. However, rather than troubling himself to bend over and grab it, he instead hooked an ankle around one of the legs to kick it once into the air so that it bounced off the ground, and tumbled along its three points before balancing on two in front of Finnick, and then promptly fell over. John stalked back to loom over the belligerent stool, before shrugging and smiling to calmly right it as his seat.

Truth be told, Finnick enjoyed Uncle John’s unique method of moving chairs and such about, and so allowed his mouth a quick smirk, “You’re losing your touch, old tod.”

“ _Uh!_ ” he grunted in good humor, “I saw that smile.”

Finnick rolled his eyes and scoffed with a shove of his paw, “Just a reflex. Listen, John,” the fennec said, and scooted forward on the chair to lean in, bracing his knee with one paw and pulling out his phone with the other, “I need your help with something.”

John scooted closer as well, which amounted to rising up into a squat and shuffling a half-pace while guiding the stool along with his tail, all done in a single fluid motion, “Happy to be of service, but I’ll admit you’ve got me worried. My specialties are suits and bad jokes, so there isn’t much help I can be with your more… _clandestine_ stuff.”

“That’s just the thing,” the smaller fox argued, “You _knew_ I needed something under the table as soon as you saw me, didn’t you? That’s why you closed up shop.”

Dark ears flicked back as the older fox grimaced, caught by his own cleverness, “I mean… _maybe_?”

“Normally I ask Nick for this,” Finnick admitted, unlocking his phone and then glancing up guiltily for an instant before focusing on the screen, “but he’s out in Bunnyburrow right now, so I don’t want to bother him.”

“When’s _that_ ever stopped you?” John teased.

“ _And_ I don’t want to drive out there,” he huffed, and then gave his phone to the older fox, “He had me look up someone today and what I found is either dumb or behind radioactive firewalls. There is _one_ connection, but let’s say the digging can be more trouble than it’s worth without a starting point. This photo is the best I could find, which is usually enough for Nick to ballpark something I can use.”

“So,” the tailor mused, accepting the phone if not yet examining it, “you figured _I_ could do the same, because ‘like father, like son’?”

“I _know_ you can,” Finnick stated, and then he splayed his ears and bowed his head, glancing up as he kicked his feet a bit, his voice softening from its usual bass, “And… there aren’t a lot of mammals I’d trust on something like this. So… if you could do this for me, Uncle John, I’d really appreciate it.”

John pouted and cooed, “How can I say ‘no’ to that face? I almost forgot you were older than my son for a second there, what with those big eyes of yours,” he commended, and then sat up on the stool to examine the picture, “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here…” A lingering moment passed before John tucked the phone and quirked a skeptical eyebrow, “ _Who_ did you say Nicky wanted you to look up?”

It was Finnick’s turn to grimace, so he clapped his paws as he looked awkwardly away, “No, I don’t suppose it’d be that easy… it’s Magnus Hopps,” he said while rubbing his palms together, “Lots of his _charitable_ stuff is all out in the open, and I can’t say for certain but I’m _pretty_ sure he left some tracks in Underland… too…” he petered off, eyes returning to John to find that he’d gone stiff and his fur had puffed out in all kinds of ways.

“ _Magnus_ Hopps,” John repeated, smoothing his fur out to re-examine the photograph on the phone, and then returned it, “ _Huh…_ ”

“That’s _it_ ?” the fennec challenged, gesturing to the digital picture of an especially fluffy, long-necked ungulate in an ensemble whose cost alone could easily put Suitopia out of business, “ _This_ llama _isn’t_ from the city, I can tell that much, but I figured _you_ could know something from his get-up, at least.”

“Oh, loads,” a disinterested John responded as he finished unrolling the cuffs of his shirt and buttoned them securely around his wrists.

Finnick scowled, “ _C’mon_ , you don’t just puff up at a name and expect me to _ignore_ it. Who am I _dealing_ with here? What does it _mean_?”

“Oscar Faire, do _not_ take that tone with me,” John reprimanded, removing his glasses so that a severe gaze could shoot down the fennec’s follow-up question. He stood to his full height, pocketed the eyewear, and then sent the stool somersaulting backward with a sharp kick of his heel so that it landed upright in the center of the room. John continued in a speculative voice while straightening his vest, “It means that Jackie and I need to bite the bullet and head into Bunnyburrow tomorrow. We should have plenty of time before he gets back…”

Sandy-furred ears skewed with an endearing cant to Finnick’s head. “Why not just _call_ Nick if you’re worried? _I_ did, and he sounded fine to _me_ ,” he suggested as politely and nonchalantly as possible, still remembering when his brother-by-bonds was kidnapped only that morning, and then heard from him again only that afternoon. Nick always caused him grief like that, and he wouldn’t want to pass that onto John any more than he already seemed to be… but more importantly, Finnick wanted to avoid any inevitable, awkward questions.

“ _Nicky_ isn’t the fox I’m worried about,” John soberly corrected, “More to the point, who you’ve got there is a member of an old, _old_ family from far outside Zootopia’s borders that are _the_ major suppliers of Night Howler pollen for most of the _world_. They’re also _outlandishly_ untouchable, as far as criminals go, practically royalty.”

Finnick didn’t have much of a response, except a single twitch of his lower eyelid. “And _how_ do _you_ …?”

“You pick up a few things when you’ve worked around Mr. Big for as long as _I_ have, even if only as a tailor for special occasions. Now then, Oscar,” John said and braced his knees to incline towards the flinching fennec, “I say this because I love you as though were my own kit, but make yourself scarce. Go to Mr. Big and tell him what we talked about; you’re one of _his_ now and he’ll protect you.”

The fennec’s mind reeled with potential issues and consequences, gulping as he hopped down from the chair, “This sounds like gang-war stuff; you know, something the _police_ should hear about?”

The statement rolled about behind eyes no less keen by the years they boasted, before at last glancing up and away, “ _Yes_ , but not by the likes of _us_ … and it wouldn’t do to _bother_ my son with this, as of yet, considering he’s likely still dealing with whatever it was that got him _into_ this in the first place,” was the response, “Use your channels and be as discreet _as possible_ , Magnus has rather long ears, you know,” John reminded, and went about ushering the smaller fox from the fitting room.

“Hold up, so who _is_ this other fox you _are_ worried about?” Finnick stopped, quirking a brow upward and doing what he could to not imply that he knew about Gideon Grey and his kinfolk, the hitherto estranged extended family of the Wildes. It was an easy leap of logic to make, but Finnick immediately wished he had neither asked nor looked, further stopped at seeing his second father’s proud shoulders and tail sag as he closed the fitting room door with an echoing click.

A long, subdued sigh further deflated John. “I’m an idiot, always have been… never could see past my own nose and now it’s come back to bite me in the tail. His name is ‘Goliath Grey’ and he’s…” he said, and if the sound didn’t give away that the pelt on his knuckles pulled taut as he gripped the doors’ handles, his tensing shoulders certainly did, “No… I might’ve called him ‘brother’ thirty years ago, but not now…”

A sharp inhale straightened John’s back anew as he clasped both paws behind him. The old tod thusly turned on a heel, his tail and chin raised in stride towards the counter to retrieve a stowed jacket of ostentatiously rich indigo. “Nicky has a nose for trouble and secrets alike and just can’t help himself when they’re about, never could,” he laughed, eyes twinkling at the fennec’s set of quizzical, caramel orbs, and then said with a shrug of his coat, “Like father, like son.”

* * *

“And then _I_ said, ‘Maybe you _should’ve_ put the kickstand down’!” Nick recounted to a table of uproarious laughter. He’d since removed his pinstripe jacket and loosened his tie, even undoing the top button and rolling up his sleeves to return to his more casual demeanor. The night came and the backyard porch torches were lit for ample illumination upon him and his merry band of revelers.

“That one _never_ gets old,” Judy snickered, still in her lily-white gown with silver lace but had entrusted into safekeeping the seven opals of the Carcanet, “Tears for a Sunset” (a nearly century-old artifact of rabbit history “gifted” to her from a… a potentially new friend), “Especially since it _changes_ with each telling,” and shot an accusing smirk at the shrugging fox, of whom she sat on the immediate right of. She was careful not to get any of the dripping shish-kebab on the exquisitely expensive attire she boasted, lacking the time to change since Felix Oswald Lapis dropped her off. The head honcho of bunnies in Zootopia acquired a protective case for the historical jewelry, and then departed to tend to important Knotash business in Preds’ Corner, but only after exchanging some succinct discussions with those at the table (and grabbing for himself one of the vegetable-laden skewers).

“So… just how much of that story is _true_ , then?” Bo wondered aloud, not affording _as_ much care to the state of his eating as Judy had (aside from rolling his sleeves up a bit further and tucking a napkin into his shirt in the event of any inadvertent mess-making), so evidenced by the corn-on-the-cob butteriness that dripped from his chin. Perhaps it was his combined state of supreme elation and abject anxiety -- for the return of his beloved “Juju” and being so near to the Felix Lapis himself for only the second time in his life, respectively -- which distracted him from the higher tier methods of table etiquette.

“Who _cares_ ?” Gideon guffawed, setting his third skewer atop a mounting pile on a nearby tray, “We’re chowin’ down in all other’s company and sharin’ great times because; _tha’s_ what matters right now.” He did smother his own features in a rigorous wiping after catching his sister’s steely-eyed glare from _his_ immediate right and then muffled a belch into that same napkin rather than out of it.

“Perhaps we can, at last, get around to that ‘good night’s sleep’ I’ve heard rumors of,” Esther mused as she, sitting to Nick’s immediate left, also added to the collection of used skewers before having herself a sip of cider, “Goodness knows, there’s a nautical ton of ‘first thing in the morning’s lurking about… working with Lapis on this case we’ve built up, for starters,” she said, and lightly kicked her briefcase, but only enough for it to make an identifying sound.

“We should probably report to Bogo at some point,” Nick thought aloud.

“The sheriff would wanna know, too,” Gideon added.

“Oh, I have so many relatives to placate tonight…” Judy rued.

Bo looked down at her phone, still turned off. “ _I_ haven’t heard anything from them, so I think it’s safe to assume that _they_ haven’t heard about all the trouble today, yet,” he consoled, “but still, they’ll find out eventually, and it’s better to hear it from _us_ than someone else…”

The bunnies shared a profoundly troubled sigh.

“Welp!” Judy declared, sitting upright, “No time like the present.”

“I mean…” Nick argued, “What difference could another five minutes make, right?”

“Could it make all the difference in the _world_? Yes, yes it _could_ ,” she answered to his rolling green eyes and daintily dabbed at her still made-up face with a napkin before turning to Esther, “How do I look?”

“Divine?” the vixen teased and then tapped the corner of her mouth, “You’ve got a little bit right there.”

“Here?” Judy asked, forgetting for a moment and using her thumb to catch the implied spot.

“No no, _here_ ,” she corrected and stood up to lean over the table with a quick lick of a napkin to gingerly clean the offending smear, “There you go, Sweet Tea, fit for court.”

Nick’s phone was already out and unlocked as he scrolled through his contacts, “Time to face the _judge_ , then,” and first held out the device such that the speaker filled the area with an unmistakable surliness.

“Who is this?” Chief Bogo demanded.

“Hey Chief, is this a bad time?”

“Wilde!” the buffalo barked, “ _How_ and _why_ do you have my _unlisted_ number?”

Nick laughed cordially, finger hovering over the video call button, “Sir, it’s a pleasure to know that, even after a year on the force, I can still surprise you. So-”

Bogo’s thundering nasal enunciations spoke volumes on his distaste for the officer fox’s antics.

“Sir!” Judy chimed in, catching the phone as it flew from Nick’s recoiling palm, “I’m safely back in Bunnyburrow,” she reported, narrowing her eyes at her shying and smiling partner.

Another snort, if one more sighing than grunting, deflated the buffalo’s audible ire, “ _Well_ , at least that’s paperwork I don’t have to fill out, provided that helicopter the plainclothes spotted wasn’t _stolen_.”

“No, sir,” she answered squarely.

“Thank Heaven for little miracles,” he quipped, “Alright, you two are to _stay put_ until further notice. How close are you to the Preds’ Corner clinic?”

Nick hawed as he confirmed from the locals that the building at which he pointed was, indeed, the one in question. “A stone’s throw, sir, as they say in these parts.”

“ _Splendid_ ,” Bogo cooed, and judging by the fox’s and the rabbit’s splayed ears and grimaces, it was a cheeriness of triumphant over the rookie cops, “Check in with Dr. Madge Honey-Badger ASAP. You can report for duty after she’s okayed your rehabilitation from a hallucinogenic drug.”

Judy’s head and ears collided dully with the tabletop and the phone slid from her palm in lethargy. Nick’s face had not yet recovered, but rather worsened into a thorough furrowing of the brow. “ _Sir_ ,” Nick groaned through his teeth as he picked up the phone again.

“ _Yes_ , Wilde?”

The silver tongue wagged and its accompanying jaw swayed, but the only thing he could think of was how glad he was that it _wasn’t_ a video call, as he originally intended. “ _Gideon_ wanted to speak with you,” he recovered and grinned, holding out the phone to his frantically denying cousin.

“Oh, good, put him on.”

Esther readily passed the mobile device over, to which her brother reluctantly accepted with his own brand of hawing country drawl, “Good ev’ning, Chief Bogo, sir, how’s it-it findin’ you?”

“Well enough, Mr. Grey, I just learned that some of my best officers outwitted some of the worst odds I’ve ever had the misfortune to hear about, and I daresay have a solid chance of bringing down those responsible. Can I assume that Ms. Grey’s there, too?”

“I’m here, no worse for the wear,” Esther greeted, exchanging a blue-eyed glance with her sibling.

“That would be all three of you, then, substantially less kidnapped than you were this morning,” the Cape buffalo mused, “And after what Longmare told me, Gideon and a Mr. _Bo Briar_ dealt with that whole drugged whipped cream mess today. I’ll be sure to exchange the good news with her. A successful Monday, all things considered. Now, I don’t normally say this, but I look forward to reading your report on this, _Wilde_.”

Nick groaned.

“In _triplicate_ ,” Bogo reminded, “as you promised.”

Nick groaned louder and laid his own face on the table, from which Judy raised hers after long ears perked at the “promise” as she vocalized a single smug laugh.

“You too, _Hopps_ , and I’ll be expecting the attention to detail that you put in _all_ of your reports.”

Judy promptly returned her face to the table.

“That’s… not _normal_ police procedure, I’m pretty sure,” Bo doubted, earning a quirked brow from either Grey sibling.

“Except I don’t care,” Bogo casually retorted, thusly ending the phone call.

Either city officer sat up to support their face in either a palm or on a fist. “Why’d you promise _triplicate_ , Slick?” Judy asked, extending her finger to prod at his cheek.

“I didn’t think _I’d_ be the one to do the paperwork,” he answered, and then grabbed his cider, “A toast: to a ‘successful Monday’,” Nick announced, even standing in all due ceremony. Judy, Esther, and Gideon quickly followed suit, and Bo grabbed up his own in some amount of confusion quickly after.

“Bantering?” the brown rabbit queried in a whisper.

“Bantering,” the silver rabbit whispered in confirmation.

With the brewed beverages set down after a quick round of chugging, Bo spoke up again, “That chief of yours is a bewildering sort, isn’t he.”

“In his defense, _we’re_ not normal police,” Judy responded, flicking a finger between herself and a newly seated Nick, “He’s covered our tails more than once because we get _results_ while also working in the framework of the law.”

“It’s the loopholes that we _exploit_ which bunch up his glittery undershorts,” Nick continued and then grinned at an innocently poised Esther, “Which, by the way, I’m beginning to understand _you_ are, in part, responsible for.”

“A _baseless_ accusation,” the older Grey fox dismissed, “I _do_ have a habit of hypothesizing aloud, though…”

Bo’s face scrunched up as he listened, furrowed his brow, thought on it, and then smiled as endearingly as he dared, “Well, we rabbits _do_ have excellent hearing, you know.” The local Burrow Watch member earned for his snippet of cleverness a round of golf-claps. Bo sat upright to continue, “Not that I _approve_ of skirting the law and using its own system against it, but I didn’t think it’d be that… _necessary_ ,” and looked questioningly to both Judy and Nick.

Judy and Nick exchanged awkward glances. With a permitting gesture, he gave her the floor, “Gumption and good intentions only get you so far in the ZPD, and when there are officers that can subdue criminals single-handed -- _literally_ \-- us ‘little guys’ need to be cleverer and do a bit more than ‘observe and report’. I eventually learned it’s _the_ reason Chief Bogo was so opposed to having someone easily stepped on in his charge.”

“Or _sat_ on,” Nick told Esther and Gideon behind his paw, getting momentary snickers and snorts from either of his fellow foxes, along with a chuckling shove of rebuke. “I mean,” he continued to the rest of the table, “Bogo still doesn’t approve of our methods, at least outwardly, but he hasn’t written us up for them _yet_ , and really, that’s the best we can hope for.”

“He’s actually a big sweetheart, worrying about each of his officers as if they were one of his own,” Judy revealed with a flick of her wrist, and then touched a single finger to her lips, “but you didn’t hear that from _me_.”

“Speaking of buffalo-dad and his wanting-only-the-best-for-us, should we check in with Dr. Misnomer tonight or tomorrow?” Nick asked, “I cast my vote for ‘tomorrow’; today’s been _far_ too action-packed than I’m used to for a vacation.”

“Poor Blue, all tuckered out after a long day at the TBR,” Esther cooed and reached over to caress behind his ear, as though he were a kit.

“I didn’t even get to ride on the Roar-A-Coaster…” Nick griped, even though he leaned into the caress.

“We’ll check in tomorrow,” Judy agreed to her partner’s exaggerated sigh of relief, “My family will never forgive me if I don’t show them this ensemble, and I’d rather not put it back on if I can help it. So, let’s just try to relax tonight.”

“Tha’s what we did _last_ night and look what happened,” Gideon doubted, “What makes _tonight_ diff’rent?”

“ _Last_ night was Magnus’s desperation showing,” Nick explained.

“He’s on the ropes right now,” Judy picked up, “With not only the ZPD but the _Felix_ suspecting him he’ll stay quiet to rebuild his credibility, or flee the city if things are _really_ bad.”

“On top of which, consider _who_ he sent after us,” the taller fox pointed out, “Short of the _real_ Gravedigger or Mr. Snatch, we just escaped one of the worst (or _best_ ) criminals in Zootopia. Granted, we practically caught him with his pants down, but he’s in lockup and _that’s_ the important bit.”

“It _still_ unnerves me somethin’ fierce,” Gideon commented, “I can only guess _why_ he was even around my van at all, and it’s _nothin’_ good.”

“He likely wanted to hijack it and have you drive him out of town, whatever claims he made otherwise,” Nick dismissed with a knowing smirk flashed to his partner, “You were already under his cloven thumb, so all he’d need is put a gun to your head and you’d comply to _almost_ anything.” When a defying huff jostled the air, the taller fox then argued, “Nothing to be ashamed of, Bangs, I’m simply saying you wouldn’t try something heroic because you _know_ , firsthand, that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot. That’s all.”

“And I was _so_ hoping he really wanted to know more about ‘Dawson’,” Judy muse.

“I’ve got a _weird_ question…” Bo admitted.

“The _best_ kind,” Nick immediately said, “Ask away.”

“Why didn’t _I_ get a ‘Dawson’? Is it because I didn’t actually _digest_ any of the stuff?”

“Likely enough; it never had a chance to affect you,” Esther speculated, “ _I’m_ wondering why _Giddy_ didn’t get any… ‘free-acting hallucinations’,” she said with no lack of cynicism, “ _He_ actually tasted quite a bit when he made it, as I recall.”

“Nuthin’ out of the ordinary…” Gideon pondered, and then paused, “I mean… I have a his’try of _lions_ poppin’ in-and-out of nowhere, but none recently or, ya’know, Nick-colored.”

“I suppose that’s something we could mention to Dr. Honey when we see her tomorrow…” Judy began to wonder, purple eyes turning to Nick with a thoughtful hum.

Green eyes glared back with an established suspicion. “No, _no_ , there’ll be _none_ of that, you hear me?” he then warned, leaning in to point a finger forwards and his ears away.

The silver rabbit grinned. “Too late,” she said in a sing-song tone, “Lion-Nick is now a thing.”

“Stop changing my species!” he demanded, paws thrown into the air, “Despite all the bad press, I’m quite happy being a _fox_ , thank you very much, not a lion _or_ a bunny.”

“‘A lion _or_ a bunny’,” Esther repeated with another thoughtful hum, “I can actually see that, now that you mention it,” and couldn’t help but giggle at his disapproving glower, “Maybe in another life, I’d have been a doe… or a _tigress_ …”

“ _I’d_ be a lion,” Gideon chimed in, ignoring his cousin’s further frustration, and waved his paws about his neck, “With a big ol’ fluffy mane.”

“Too much _upkeep_ ,” Bo playfully scoffed, “If we’re talking big cats, I’d be a _jaguar_. Still strong, but _also_ nimble.”

“Am I the _only_ one here comfortable in their own fur?” Nick disbelieved.

“Says someone who still harbors fantasies of being a _dragon_ …” Judy mentioned under her breath.

The city-fox feigned exaggerated indignation, “I told you that in _confidence_.”

* * *

Not long after the shish-kebabs were stripped and the cider depleted did a crew of bunnies answer to satisfaction Nick’s aloud query of _who_ was to take care of cleanup… if to a lesser degree since _he_ was “encouraged” to help. At Esther’s suggesting, Gideon agreeably tossed the keys of his van to Judy and Bo, thus allowing them an escape from the flocking admiration for the beauty of her dress and his proximity thereof. Judy grinned and bore it, especially when Bo reminded her in his kindest, most nonchalant manner possible, that “It’s only going to get worse”, along with his continued support and assistance in it all.

Both Greys directed Wilde to a shortcut that would shave significant time off their hike back to the homestead, but to their surprise instead followed him in skirting the town of Preds’ Corner, but _not_ toward the clinic. Rather than even heading to Phil Octaves, the resident barkeep who reported to the sheriff’s office suspicious activity the night prior, Nick collaborated with Esther to pinpoint the building where Doug Ramses, disguised as the Gravedigger, snuck in to harass Gideon earlier that day.

“Multiple stories… clear shot of the farmhouses… the entrance has a direct line of sight from Phil’s bar…” Nick listed off and so he, with his fellow foxes, found themselves overlooking The Brambles Notary and Records, “A ‘charming little hub for red tape and other such bureaucratic whatnots’, I believe you described it as, Cherries,” he remembered.

“All you needed was _one_ walk through town to recite anything I had to say on it,” she commented, a paw resting on her cocked hip while the other gripped her briefcase securely, and currently wearing Nick’s pinstripe jacket, “Color me impressed.”

“I like to know my surroundings,” he answered with a grinning shrug.

“We ain’t goin’ _in_ there, right?” Gideon worried, eying the yellow tape still strung across the back door.

“Of course not,” Nick dismissed to a relieved exhale, “Every Knotash bunny is on high alert right now, so even though we three foxes are as pure as the wind-driven snow, we’d still attract attention if spotted sniffing about.”

“So, why risk coming down here?” the vixen inquired. Though they were not on the streets of the town, they could still be visible from them.

“Because I’d bet my tail that they haven’t found the metal gun case that Phil saw Ol’ Doug bring with him,” he said in a lower tone, “I wanted to get an idea of how he might’ve hidden it, except the tension down there is darn near _palpable_. On top of which, I don’t honestly believe that _all_ the Lookers have yet cleared out, the sheriff’s ultimatum notwithstanding.”

“But I thought they already _got_ his gun,” Gideon pointed out, “Lanny smashed it up and ev’rything.”

“That was something akin to a sidearm, Bangs,” Nick explained, “and unless I miss my mark, the front door of your parents’ house is _far_ out of its range. He’s not going to hit a teeny cassette tape at that distance without a top-notch rifle, which would be bulky and long. More to the point, he also has a disguise to hide, including but not limited to a trench coat and a full wolf-suit, and probably some kind of computer that he can use as a spotter, since all evidence points to him acting _alone_ in his sniping,” he explained, turning with a sweep of his tail towards the service road, “Remember: he was in Bunnyburrow _before_ being hired to pressure our dear Giddy, meaning _someone_ befell a fatal ‘accident’ and the evidence will be in his gun case; the target’s family has a right to know what happened.”

“Your brain can be really unsettling in all the right ways, Blue,” Esther complimented as she immediately followed suit alongside Nick.

“Did you know that Judy says the same? Not in so many words, of course, but I know she means it,” the taller fox reported with a smirk, “Anyway, it means that Doug had an accomplice in town that he could hand all that off to while he made his escape under the cover of the Prince’s Guard.”

“If he had help, then why couldn’t _they_ hide him?” Gideon rebutted.

“No matter its size, hiding some _thing_ is different from hiding some _one_ , especially if they stand out in a crowd of bunnies.”

“One of the _bunnies_?”

“Of course,” Nick said and glanced up one last time at the empty windows of the gradually farther buildings, “Remember what else Judy said about her visit with the city-Hoppses: Magnus has Knotash wrapped around his little finger. An assassin like Doug is a sizeable and risky investment, something not meant to be caught. On top of that, there would be operatives to ensure that all this goes _smoothly_ ; Grav would be one such bunny.”

The trio sobered at his mentioning with a different reaction from each, a span that seemed to stretch and envelope until it was almost tangible.

“ _Was_ one such bunny,” Nick eventually corrected, if only to ensure that speech still worked in the world.

“I think it’s safe to say that the jury’s still out on _him_ ,” Esther dared, though under her breath and, perhaps, if only to ensure a balance of perspective.

Gideon felt it proper to break the iceberg with joviality. “Still… a knife-fight, high-speed chase, escape on a helicopter… he sure knows how to show a girl a good time-!” he laughed, but was promptly bushwhacked by his sister and so rubbed the spot where her tail hit.

“Judy’s adventure in Knotash is a _very_ delicate situation,” Nick patiently admonished, “There is a _lot_ more to churn before we can spread it about on the toast of Zootopia like the delicious butter that it is.”

Narrowed blue eyes shifted from one of his elders to the other as Gideon crossed his thick arms. “Legends have been built on _less_ than what Jude went through,” he grumbled in a pout, “and she ain’t no porc’lain doll, neither.”

“It’s a bit more than that, Giddy,” Esther said, though not in rebuke. She stopped and unclipped her briefcase to reach in and pull out a small black book, one certainly not sized for a fox, and presented it. “Something spooked her in Knotash, something terrible, and I’m guessing it has something to do with _this_.”

“And what is _that_?” the stouter fox suspected, features softening somewhat.

“Not exactly sure. First chance she got, though, she handed it off and requested that I read it for her,” the vixen said and then returned it to the briefcase before straightening her bangs, “While Judy’s come to me in the past for the heartless objectivity of a Zootopian lawyer, I cannot recall her _ever_ requesting cliff notes of an entire text…”

“I only caught a glimpse of the exchange back when The Good Felix was talking with you and Bo about the pie-eating contest,” Nick explained to Gideon while once again traversing the night-shrouded farmyards, “And I’ll admit, it’s not often I see Judy distraught over much of anything, especially not if it means letting _anyone_ else shoulder her troubles. So, it’s probably a good thing we can’t retell the story _quite_ yet, at least until this all gets smoothed out, as they say, ‘proper-like’.”

The stouter fox quick-stepped to catch up. “Jude _did_ look a bit… _off_ t’night, didn’t she? You could tell because Bo was gettin’ it, too, which I guess was that _spookin’_ you talked about, Essy. I wonder how that coulda _did_ it to her, though?”

“While not one-hundred percent certain, I have a _hunch_ …” Esther muttered.

“Grav’s diary?” Nick stated matter-of-factly.

“Considering from _whom_ it came and all she said about his… revelation, I guess? I can’t imagine what else _could_ have such an effect on her,” the vixen confirmed, “Suffice to say, I’m both excited _and_ terrified to read it.”

“Right, his diary, of course,” Gideon vaguely feigned, “I mean, I figured he was off his rocker, but findin’ out he’s forcin’ _chicken_ down, and _why_ … if I were a bunny, I’d go stir-crazy, _too_. I seen what happens when prey eats meat or tries, and it _ain’t_ too pretty.”

“And poor Bo, finding out that there was _another_ bunny he knew for so long with the same condition _as_ him…” Esther endeared, “Who just so happened to be the same bunny that ran him over with a _car_ yesterday…”

“My jealously guarded sympathy goes to Oswald,” the taller fox said, “Imagine how _he_ must feel, the most powerful rabbit in Zootopia led around by the heartstrings like a puppet,” and grunted with a shake of his head, “Strictly speaking, I’m glad I wasn’t in the copter when Judy told him about Grav’s diet; I’m sure she downplayed his reaction a bit.”

As the silent farmhouses of vacationing Preds’ Corner families passed around the foxes’ idle chatter, the youngest of the three presented an observation about the older two as they entered into their front yard. “So, uhh…” he groaned, tucking the day’s post under his arm after retrieving it from the mailbox, “I can’t help but notice all that there _paw-holding_ goin’ on since we left Preds’ Corner.”

Not missing a step, Nick examined Esther’s grasped paw and then let it swing again, “Police escort. Ms. Grey here is carrying valuable information in that briefcase of hers,” he said as she raised the aforementioned item, the both of them sharing a casual grin, “Wouldn’t want that _or_ her disappearing two nights in a row. We at the ZPD have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

“And all that ‘crushin’ since you saw him on the TV was really _‘courtin’_ , huh Essy?”

“You caught us, little brother,” she confessed with a dramatic sigh, “A sordid affair between cop and attorney… ‘justice is blind, but so is love’, and all that.”

“Well, I’m jus’ glad _someone_ finally hooked ya’,” he smirked, “Ma and Pa ‘bout gave up on grandkits years ago.”

“If only they had a _son_ as a well as a _daughter_ ,” the vixen idly mused.

“This actually reminds me of why I agreed to come to Bunnyburrow in the first place,” Nick said, derailing the ambulant banter in smug nonchalance, and then promptly responded to the brilliant flash of red in Esther’s ears with the same easy wavelength of conversational tone, “And _no_ , in addition to scoping out those closest to our dear Judy, it actually has to do with my dad.”

When Gideon finally managed to bite back several gut-wrenching snickers, he reached into his pocket for the keyring (sans van keys) with which the front door of the Grey homestead could be unlocked. “What’s this about Uncle John?” he giggled.

On were the lights flicked as the three entered; Esther stashed her briefcase at the kitchen table, and her ears drooped when she once more saw the patch job her brother did over the bullet hole in the front window, the one near the phone. Gideon didn’t seem aware that it existed.

“Oh, Cherries, remind me to ask you about your next-door neighbors. I heard from Bangs here that your nearest is none other than the _Mallupes_ , a son of which I am actually acquainted with and curious about,” Nick requested as he slipped his jacket from her shoulders to throw it over an arm.

“Which one?” she asked, undoing the barrette holding half of her bangs in place to let the lot of it hang around her face.

“That’d be Mack,” he began simply enough, even though his demeanor took a nosedive as her eyes flashed silver and fur bristled at the name’s mentioning, “With whom I am only _loosely_ acquainted and _marginally_ curious about… I hardly know the guy, honestly, a real lone wolf.”

“Essy, I thought you _liked_ Mack?” Gideon inquired.

“I _did_.”

“Hey, Bangs, about my dad…” Nick hurriedly ushered with a clearing of his throat, “As far as I know, he’s a native Zootopian, if not necessarily to the major city area of the time. By his and Mom’s own admission, along with sparse reports, he was first spotted somewhere between the Oasis Hotel and Dead End train stops.”

“So, only one of the major train hubs in the city, even back then,” a forcibly calmed Esther said, “But what do you mean ‘reports’, was he apprehended for some reason?”

The taller fox groaned in ambiguity as he took a seat at the table, and then leaned back in the chair, “Not as _such_ , he was never actually ‘caught’, so to speak, but according to Mom, he was bloodied, punchdrunk, and half-sunblind after running afoul of a group of boars and winning.”

“Jumpin’ Jehowlsaphat…” Gideon muttered, plopping himself down to straddle the seat, “Not only are our mothers _sisters_ , but they got a _type_.”

Esther cupped her mouth to fret, “I hate to say it, Giddy, but you’re right. Pa hasn’t raised claw or bared teeth since I was born, but now I’m a little concerned about the _Wilde_ side of the family…”

“ _Hey_ ,” Nick grunted, “Those boars were pummeled in _self-defense_ , I’ll have you know; any fox worth his salt isn’t going to pick a fight with several _hundreds_ of pounds of combined fat and muscle, and it’s not Dad’s fault they couldn’t walk-the-walk. Granted, he doesn’t remember exactly _how_ he got off the train and into that brawl, it’s all a painful haze for him.”

“So how does Aunt Jackie work into all this?” Esther asked and began to ponder, “She also would be from Knottedwood, like Ma, so she must’ve come from Bunnyburrow, too.”

The taller fox grinned, “As you said, the Oasis Hotel was a major train hub, even back then, and it just so happens that to this day, it’s the _first_ stop from Bunnyburrow into the city. It’s possible that they were on the same train that day, and could even tie into how they met,” Nick said, thumbing through his phone, “I’ve spent some time canvassing the many train tracks around the area and even a good ways down them, asking about ‘John Wilde’, but I only ever heard what I already knew from him being my dad, or about ‘Johnson’.”

“And you never thought to hop the train and come down _here_ for a look-see?” Esther posited, her fingers pointed in a generally centralizing gesture to designate all of Bunnyburrow.

“ _Plenty_ of times,” Nick waved away, “but ‘time is money’, as they say in the biz, and we -- Finnick and I -- were only _just_ scraping by, so wild goose chases weren’t in the budget. But now, with a steady job and _paid_ time off, I have a chance to continue looking. Burying the hatchet with my folks also helped in that regard, but I figured since I was coming out _here_ , it wouldn’t hurt to see what I could see. And then this whole fiasco with the Night Howler monopolized my weekend,” he said, and thinking back to the start of the Pred-Scare a year prior, added under his breath, “ _again_.”

“Hold up, who's this _‘Johnson’_ fox?” Gideon inquired.

“He’s… I _guess_ he’s like an urban legend, more of an archetype, really. It’s a bit more prevalent in the city than out here,” the vixen explained, “Johnson’s usually male, sometimes female, old, young, whatever, but all-in-all, they’re what you would call the ‘uncatchable fox’. So, you can see how it’d be a false trail for Blue.”

“Oh! Kinda like Mr. Foxglove?” he suggested, “Except without the comic books, o’course.”

“ _Hup_ ,” Nick corrected, jutting a finger at his cousin, “Mr. Foxglove’s been caught before, there was an entire _arc_ about him and Mrs. Foxglove escaping a foreign dictatorship.”

“I _know_ that, Stretch,” Gideon argued, rolling his eyes, “and I got all those issues right here, read ‘em cover-to-cover,” he also said, tossing a thumb down the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

“You probably have the _new_ Mr. Foxgloves, too,” Nick sneered.

“It’s how I got into ‘em,” Gideon harrumphed, sitting straight with arms crossed anew, “I went back and got the _classic_ series later on, and those’re much better, obviously, but I still like the new Mr. Foxglove all the same.”

“ _Kits_ ,” Esther said to garner their attention, “Off topic… although I’ve seen some webcomics with a ‘Johnson’-esque character; they’re not half-bad. Anyway, Blue, you mentioned that Uncle John had a ‘photograph’, didn’t you?”

Nick brought his phone out and set it on the table, face-up and boasting a sepia-toned picture, “I do, _indeed_. I’m sure you’ve both reached the same conclusion as I that my Dad spent _some_ time in Bunnyburrow in the past. It would explain how he could meet Mom, being Auntie Ruth’s sister as she is. Now, both of my parents are foxes of mysterious origins in the highest degree, little is known about them aside from Grandpa Piberius, and the recent information about the schism between my mom and yours…”

“And how Ma’d say she ‘Lost her Jackie to that _wild_ fox in the city’,” Gideon excitedly broke in, “Which we _now_ reckon she meant ‘ _John_ Wilde’.”

“Here is the photograph Dad held onto all these years,” Nick continued, gesturing to the phone, “I managed to swipe a snapshot of it when I visited them before I left (they’re none the wiser), and planned to use it to find that vixen he’s with. It’s not colored, unfortunately, but judging by their clothes, the shades of their fur, and how they’re loosely embraced, I would say that they’re either affectionate siblings or old-timey lovers. I’m leaning towards the _latter_ , professionally speaking, since everyone is _so_ surprised that I have family out this way. Along with the list of fox surnames that Travis gave me today, it’s something I can start with, provided this whole rehab thing with Dr. Honey doesn’t take too long.”

“Your show, Essy,” Gideon prompted, sliding the phone across the table to her, and then smirking at Nick, “I’m only good for faces; names weren’t always there, but faces? _No_ problem.”

Not missing a beat, Esther put her sharp eyes to immediate use for some several seconds. “Well, for starters…” she began, “Young Uncle John has ‘farm-fox’ written _all_ over him, astutely dressed though he is.”

“He was a bit rough-’n’-tumble for a city-fox, I don’t deny that,” Nick relayed.

She hummed and studied the picture further, “Hard to really tell from this old photo, though… Hold on,” she requested, and pulled out a pair of glasses from her briefcase, letting them slide to the edge of her snout before returning to cool re-examination. “Uh _huh_ …” Esther grunted and slid it back over to her brother, “ _You_ tell _me_.”

Surprised, Gideon hesitantly picked up the phone and eyed the patient expectancy of his elders. “Well, alright, I dunno what good _I’ll_ be in identifyin’ who she is, but I’ll try my paw at it.” His brow furrowed and lip bit in concentration, also grunting as his blue eyes focused on the screen to deliver a slack-jawed verdict, “ _Ayeup_ , tha’s Ma,” and returned the phone.

Nick retrieved his mobile device in a numbness akin to being a gut-punched, frowning his worst at the happy foxes in sepia monochrome. “Well,” he recovered, at last, “that… explains a _few_ things, I guess…”

“Do you just _stumble_ into this kind of thing, Blue?”

“I don’t usually find my _own_ dirty laundry, but yes,” Nick mumbled, “You’d think after three decades I’d learn to take a page from the ferrets and ‘mind my own business’… Which this kind of _is_ , so maybe it was evitable, I don’t know…”

“He might’ve rebuffed Ma to elope with her sister into the city,” Esther quietly extrapolated, removing her glasses to chew one of the end tips, “Which means she’s been holding onto that for these thirty-plus years…”

“I’m surprised _you_ didn’t recognize her, Stretch, you’re supposed to be on the ball with these kinda things.”

“Forgive me; there weren’t a lot of reference points.”

“You saw her in that photo in my apartment, didn’t ya’?”

“ _Yes_ , but it honestly wasn’t on my mind at the time with all the _other_ things I needed to think about,” Nick argued, one paw flopping over his table-slumped head as he stared at the phone’s screen, “And it’s not like I have perfect recollection, or anything, _sheesh_ , give a fox a break…”

“To be fair, Pa _never_ liked having his picture taken, and _she_ felt bad getting hers when it made _him_ so uncomfortable,” the vixen expounded, “I do remember Ma had to twist both his arms into pretzels to get _that_ one, though, especially so Giddy and I could have a copy.”

“We’re still tryin’ to figure out _how_ Ma convinced him to go on this Caribouan Cruise,” Gideon chuckled, “I always figured _Ma_ was the old-fashioned sort, thinkin’ the camera sucked out the soul or somethin’, but after you said that thing about Pa’s shady past, Stretch, I can’t help but wonder if he’s been _hidin’_ all this time…”

“Continuing that thought, it’s possible Pa figures there’s no need to hide anymore, but what’s for _darn_ sure is that Ma and Aunt Jackie _do_ have ‘a type’,” Esther mused, “Maybe the Greys need a no-holds-bar family ‘sit-down’ of their own,” she then suggested.

“I know _I’ve_ got plenty to bring to the table,” Gideon said, and with a craning of his neck he looked across the living room at the hanging family photo of the Savages, “and of course, there they are as kits with all their siblings. Guess we can try to figure out which one is Aunt Jackie.”

“Yeah, I saw that yesterday, if briefly,” the taller fox politely sighed, “Well, that concludes everything _I_ had planned for Bunnyburrow,” he continued with a clap and a rub of his paws, “Got quite a bit more than I expected, too,” and gestured to either Grey sibling in a broad grin.

The pairs of blue eyes exchanged a glance before Gideon spoke up, “So… what happens _now,_ then?”

Nick rose and stretched his back, “ _Sleep_ ; a _lot_ of it.”

“No, I mean, what about your folks? You must’ve been after something like this for _as_ long, if not _longer_ than Essy has, even if you didn’t know you was both lookin’ for the same foxes,” Gideon said.

“Didn’t think I’d say it twice in the same day, but Giddy’s right. To have kept something like _this_ secret for your whole life…” Esther began, and grew softer the more she spoke, “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Nick assured with an easy grin, pausing a full beat to allow the Greys to build their individual skepticism before saying, “because my folks and I have already agreed to reveal _everything_ to each other the next time we meet, and I _will_ hold them to it.”

* * *

It was well past midnight, and Nick was still awake. Gideon was asleep in his bed, and from the looks of it, already established a habit of not wearing a shirt while doing so, although the balmy night likely helped with that. Esther was probably up reading that book Judy thrust upon her, what with the light peeking out from under her bedroom door. As for Nick, he claimed the couch and stared at the ceiling with his arm wrapped around one of the throw pillows. Just like when he was a kit, when he had a pillow he’d hold, drag around, chew on, and was tucked into bed with…

After kicking off the blanket and vaulting from the couch, the fox stalked across the floor in his underclothes, bringing the pillow along in his huff to sit down and stare at a framed photograph on the wall. He didn’t sit _on_ the pillow, though, but instead squeezed it to his chest as he beseeched the monochrome family of foxes.

“Foxes don’t lie or keep secrets from each other” is something drilled into the head of every fox kit from the moment they could hear it. Nick knew… he _figured_ his parents tried to uphold that solemn vow… but they didn’t. Not that _he_ was blameless, which he also knew. It’s why they agreed to a sitdown of full disclosure, to wipe the slate clean and start fresh. Except he jumped the gun and found something about them before they were ready to tell it… not that he meant to uncover so bad a secret as it was, apt though he might be at sniffing such things out… And yet it _still_ felt like he was missing something… he _wanted_ something to be missing, at least, some rationale, some reason, some _excuse_ …

Nick sprung up and approached the framed photograph with his neck craned. _Goliath hung it,_ he noticed, raised on his toes but barely able to touch the bottom edge, tall though he was for a fox, _and still cleans it, too, judging by those wiping streaks._ He set the pillow down and went to drag a chair over and so continue his examination, bracing the furniture’s sturdy back with his tail swaying behind him. _Which little vixen are you, Mom?_ Nick wondered, bright green eyes scanning those present before landing on one almost completely obscured by persistent, aged grime on the glass, _There you are, the one that Goliath’s rag keeps missing because he’s_ also _holding a grudge… Too bad about that brother you’re standing in front of, though; the grime’s so thick I can hardly see him, but I suppose he can’t be blamed for that._

 _That’s got to be Grandpa Pib up there…_ Nick sighed as he hunched his shoulders, lips smacking to study the oldest fox in the picture, _With both eyes and both paws, too… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but it would’ve been really cool to see a photograph of_ the _Scarlet Hook. Which would make_ her _Grandma Clawdia…_ Nick then smirked at the proud vixen, whose bearing projected both boldness and timidity in masterful balance, _I guess pirate stories really_ do _have kissing, but I can forgive Dad for that one. Still… a litter this size, I wonder why Mom never mentioned them, even if she had bad blood with Ruth…_ His ears flinched and tail sagged to frown a bit more as his eyes went over the entirety of the picture, _According to Esther, Goliath was welcome to stay in the Knottedwood, but with such a traditional-looking family I can’t help but think there’s more to it…_

“You _tease_ ,” Esther remarked.

Every spring-loaded muscle from Nick’s toes up along his spine launched him through the air in a full axel to land and balance on the back of the chair. His loud, solitary bark turned into a series of rapid gasps that further exaggerated his puffed-out pelt and vibrant green eyes, staring into the cool, grinning blues. Nick cleared his throat, and then stepped down into the seat to assemble a casual front by crossing one leg over the other and folding both paws in his lap, “I _really_ need to get a bell on you, Ms. Grey.”

“That wouldn’t help in the slightest, Mr. Wilde, and you know it. And, why’re you moving furniture about in the dead of night, anyway?” she asked. A swift paw batted at his knee so that she might sit on the newly uncrossed legs, adopting his previous posture in a side-saddle position, “But honestly, I’d say something’s eating you, Blue, judging purely on precedence. Want to talk about it?”

He sighed, lightly grasping her shoulder and waist in a hug, earning a warmness in her ears and a dart of her eyes to those paws’ positions, “I _should_ , shouldn’t I.”

“Might help,” she quietly responded, “Especially now that Giddy’s asleep, no one else will hear you except me.”

A low hum conceded to the sarcasm, “I spent half my life despising my parents for stupid reasons, Cherries, reasons that I wanted more than anything to toss away like candy wrappers, but _now_ … now I feel _justified_ in them. What _does_ a fox do with something like that?”

Esther leaned against his chest and nestled her snout to his neck, before she vocally pondered, “As a fox, I’d say there must be a _tremendously_ important reason for your _own parents_ to keep _such_ a secret for _so long_ , and I’d actually be a bit nervous to know what it is. We’re taught as kits to not lie or keep secrets when it comes to other foxes, while as tods and vixens we figure out that sometimes we can’t always tell the truth immediately or in totality… and yet we’re still beholden to it and its weight. Now, as your _girlfriend_ …” she paused, and then brushed her nose to his with a tender lick, “I’d say your rocketship undies are _quite_ adorable.”

“So true, so true…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shane Faire, Finnick/Oscar's dad, was said to have a voice unbefitting his size; this was a minor plot point back in the early chapters of Brave, during the flashback of young Nicky. Shane is keeping on with life, almost set to retire and living in a community of widows and widowers of species who mate for life (foxes, beavers, etc.), and goes bowling with John every other Tuesday.
> 
> The portion of a conversation wherein they talk about Doug, Dawson, and Mr. Scratch all comes from the pie-eating contest Brave, as well as the feat of shooting a teeny cassette tape.
> 
> "Bushwhacking" is when a fox (or other similar mammals of especial fluffiness) uses their tail to harmlessly club their subordinate (usually their child or younger sibling) in a correctional manner. Bushwhacking of a superior is immediately considered immature posturing and ignored until it happens again, whereupon the bushwhacker more often than not gets what's coming to them.
> 
> "Lost her Jackie to some wild fox" comes all from Trustworthy, chapter 12, when we first learn about Nick and Gideon's relation as well as the family photo hanging on his wall. Goliath was very resistant to having his picture taken but Ruth is -- as he is apt to designate -- a "strong-willed vixen".
> 
> The "pirate stories do have kissing" is another part of Brave, namely the flashback for Young Nicky.
> 
> The "precedence" Esther speaks of is from their first encounter in Trustworthy, right after Nick discovered the scars under Gideon's fur, wherein Nick figures out that Gideon was sent off to pred-therapy via clues that Esther unknowingly provides (as is Nick's way).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Please respect our rabbit population and keep loud, sudden noises to a minimum. If loud, sudden noises are a regular occurrence, please submit and adhere to a schedule with the local Burrow Watch representative. Thank you.  
> \--The Tri-Burrow Reunion Board"
> 
> [Sheriff Rachel Longmare keeps such a sign up in her office after finding that it was discarded, numbered at #0013; it is metal-etched, officiated by the city of Zootopia, and one of many such notices scattered throughout Bunnyburrow. She has it as a reminder that rabbits are not necessarily enforcers of law but rather world-class tattlers.]

“No. Way. You did  _ not _ ,” Judy challenged, managing around her restrained laughter.

Bo was not so reserved in the retelling, driving though he was and required to focus on the nighttime road out of Preds’ Corner, “Stars as my witness, Juju, I sat in Nick’s lap  _ all _ the way from the TBR.”

The merriment was more than welcome as the silver bunny gripped her splitting sides. “Oh my gosh!  _ Why _ ?”

“Because there wasn’t anywhere else  _ to _ sit!” he explained with a broad paw gesturing to the van and its front seat bench on which they resided, “And Nick already made it  _ very _ clear that I wasn’t to sit in the back -- because of its lack of seatbelts, of course, and after he was thrown from the truck yesterday, I  _ completely _ understand his concern -- so, I asked Gideon, my fellow farm-boy, if he thought Nick, his fellow fox, might be okay with it.”

“Which I’m  _ sure _ he agreed to,” Judy snickered, finally catching her breath as she rubbed her flank in discomforted moans and chuckles, “ _ Hoo boy _ , this dress is  _ not _ meant for laughter…”

“Want me to stop? It only gets funnier from here,” Bo wryly informed.

“No, please, continue; I  _ need _ to hear this,” she insisted, adjusting the low-cut dress when breathing became less difficult.

His shoulders shook as he chuckled, “Alright, now,  _ I _ assumed Nick knew all about how us rabbits sit on each other like it’s no big deal, after all, he seems aware of just about everything  _ else  _ that goes on. Gideon wasn’t sure at first, but when  _ Esther _ overheard our conversation they agreed that Nick -- and these were her  _ exact _ words -- ‘is not only completely okay with it, but already expecting it’. So I hopped up without a second guess, sat down, and pulled his shoulder strap over myself; poor Nick was  _ paralyzed _ . Both Gid and Esther were snorting and snickering under their breath,  _ waiting _ for him to say  _ something _ about it, but he didn’t! The  _ entire _ ride, through all the idle talk, he was like a  _ statue _ ! I’d bet my lucky foot that he was staring daggers at the both of them, though, and  _ I _ wasn’t sure if I should say anything on the subject… or if there was anything I  _ could _ .”

Judy’s head and ears flew back in jovial perpetuity. “Oh  _ no _ , I think I can remember why she would  _ say _ that, too…” she lamented through her wide smile, cupping it with one paw as the other cradled her stomach. When several lung-refreshing gasps finally permitted Judy’s regular voice, she elaborated, “Okay, so, Nick and I share a seat for role-call, right? They’re sized for larger mammals and no one thinks twice about it since we’re partners. Well, there was a new recruit -- a wallaby, small fella, a real peach -- that I welcomed to sit with us to just, you know, help him get through his first day, and as casual as you like, I plop down in Nick’s lap to make room. Now, I’m sure I  _ mentioned _ ‘bunny seating arrangements’ to Nick at one point, but you should’ve  _ seen _ the looks on the nearby officers… it took me nearly a  _ minute _ to I realize what I did but at that point, my fur was already redder than Nick’s…” She awkwardly laughed and pushed an ear back, only for it to spring up again. “Bogo sent us to Mammalian Relations to get a talking to about what ‘partnerships’ meant in the ZPD…  _ after _ all the cases were assigned.”

“You’re  _ kidding _ ,” Bo gasped, “Jeez, I didn’t think the city was  _ that _ different from out here…”

“This is actually where Esther comes in,” she then boasted, “I texted her on the way there, and lucky me, she was free to give a quick confirmation on the ‘Species/Culture Affirming Rules of Exception’, along with the article and paragraph  _ specific _ to bunnies and the whole…  _ sitting-in-laps  _ thing. She’s always been on top of her sources.”

Bo softly groaned in realization, “ _ S/CARE _ , of course… and to think, before Lionheart and Stagmire got their Mammal Inclusion Initiative made into law, those were all unspoken courtesies… You were let off with a warning, huh?”

“Not even  _ that _ ,” Judy corrected, “Between Nick’s sweet-talking and my proof that it’s an integral part of rabbit culture, they couldn’t  _ legally _ reprimand us. Even so, I’m  _ extra _ careful where I put my cottontail from here on out, and I’m still…  _ teased _ about it, which if I can be honest I’d prefer the reprimand; but that’s life, right? Live and learn.”

A grimace and a grunt were quick to come from the boy rabbit, “Sounds like you can’t use the ‘don’t call me cute’ defense anymore…”

“ _ Yeah… _ ” she concurred, and from her spot in the middle seat, leaned in to rest on and nestle into Bo, “I lost that when I gained the privilege to sit in laps without legal pushback… I guess I’ll now have to be judged by my  _ actions _ instead of my  _ species _ , or something,” she smirked and glanced up at him as his arm draped about her.

“What a world,” he said under his breath with a quick squeeze of her shoulder to commence a hug into his chest, before returning both paws to the 4-and-8 positions on the steering wheel.

“Hey, Bobo,” Judy said after a quiet moment, “We probably won’t have another chance to talk privately for a while, so I wanted to ask about something that… that I  _ know _ has been troubling you… Would that be okay?”

The brown rabbit flinched, short ears pinned back as he cleared his throat, shoulders squaring like cinder blocks as his mitts clenched audibly around the wheel, “Yeah, sure, that’d be okay,” he answered as best he could, fidgeting in his seat a bit.

She sighed through her nose and sat upright, looking down at the twiddling fingers held in her lap. “About Graham…” she said softly, purple eyes glancing up at the hazels flicking from the road to her, “and the fact that he’s… that he  _ also _ has that condition…” And like a torrent, the larger of the two expelled all his tension in a single sigh of relief. Judy, somewhat stunned, stared up at the visibly relaxed rabbit adjacent to her, “Umm…” she articulated.

“Grav…” Bo began, stopped, and held up a finger of correction, “ _ Graham’s _ muscular hyperatrophy  _ isn’t _ a surprise to me,” he revealed, “It’s something you just kind of…  _ know _ , when you see it in other bunnies, but there’s hardly ever a good time for the ‘Hey, we’re both cursed!’ conversation, especially since he and I didn’t get along. I couldn’t  _ really _ confirm it until after I got back from Hares’ Bluff, though, not until he looked at me with… maybe not so much  _ envy _ but  _ indignation _ …” he then grunted once, “Mostly it’s surprise or disbelief at first glance, but with  _ him _ ? It was like I yanked the last slice of cake right out of his grasp.” Bo then hummed retrospectively, “I suppose it didn’t help that I refused to join his group of hecklers back at Woodlands… and told him to ‘bury his head’ more than once.”

“I remember hearing you say that,” Judy flatly said, but smirked at his abashed grin. Bo’s cheeriness couldn’t fool her, however genuine it might be, and the troubling she felt, “I guess that’s egg on my face, then. What  _ has  _ been troubling you?”

He groaned his uncertainty, “It… it’s about Felix Lapis…” he admitted, “and one of those ‘moments that will probably haunt me the rest of my life’ kind of things. I’m sure you remember that career fair at  BU where I got to meet him, right? Well, it wasn’t…  _ quite _ as smooth as I’ve been leading everyone else to believe. I mean, it wasn’t  _ bad _ , per se, but every time I think about it, I always see that expression… that same one he gave me tonight.”

Judy’s face scrunched and pouted in rapt consideration, “He  _ was _ a bit standoffish with you.”

Bo sighed and frowned. “It’s not his fault, Juju. I  _ knew _ I was set for the Lapis Scholarship. Seeking a cure for  _ muscular hyperatrophy _ while also  _ having _ it? I might as well have gotten a blank check, so long as I kept my grades up… but I wasn’t expecting him to offer me a research position at Hexward.”

“A  _ research position _ ?” Judy gawked, “I thought it was only an internship?”

“I thought he was  _ kidding _ , in all honesty, or… y’know,  _ mocking _ me like so many others did… For goodness sakes, I was still a few credits away from getting my degree… in  _ nutrition _ , not biochemistry or medicine,” Bo pleaded, “The Felix even told his assistant to give him a minute so he could talk with me -- a  _ minute _ ! Any rabbit would count their lucky stars to get a few  _ seconds _ with him. He asked me why I was looking for a cure, so I told him, and he was  _ excited _ .” Bo continued only after a tumultuous sigh, “That’s when I did what I always do, and choked on my own foot; I said I’d be happy to work for him  _ after _ the MMA… I could’ve walked right into Hexward, but I threw it all in his face…”

A firm, gray paw reached out to grip his forearm, to which a gentle, brown paw lay atop it, “I don’t think I made the wrong decision, though,” he continued, “because I got to meet  _ you _ , Judy.” Her ears folded back with a soft, appreciative moan, so as she sat up, his face leaned over for a touch of the noses. “So… turnabout’s fair play,” he said after another momentary silence wherein Judy embraced his arm, “Do you want to talk about what’s been troubling  _ you _ ?”

Amidst the tires’ roll and engine’s hum in which nothing was said for some time still, Judy let only her silence express a trepidation that Bo, sensitive as he was to her emotional state, especially alone, responded to by lifting his arm and pulling her closer. She unbuckled and pressed against his chest to hold and be held, “Yes, but… in a bit.”

“No rush, Juju, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

Judy doubted that, but she still wanted to believe it. “Bo, what do you know about the boogierabbit?” she asked after a long tension ran its course.

“Well…” he recalled, “I’ve  _ heard _ probably the same things everybunny else has… carnivorous, teeth filed sharp, missing foot, skeletal, blood-red eyes, bone-saw, and meathook… He’s rather consistent from telling-to-telling, symbolically speaking. There’s, umm… a really old movie about him, which has a remake from last decade, and  _ another _ remake coming out next year… Why do you ask?”

“Do you think it’s possible that he… was ever a  _ real _ rabbit?”

“I… would certainly hope  _ not _ if even  _ half _ of the stories are true,” Bo worried, “Or even if he was  _ based _ off someone that lived hundreds or thousands of years ago, what with the kinds of things he and his ‘cursed crew’ did…” he shuddered, “To think that a  _ bunny _ was capable of all that.” He rubbed her back and once again lifted his arm as she sat upright and buckled her seatbelt anew, but stared out the windshield while hugging his limb at an odd angle; Bo quietly obliged. “I mean,” he would reason when his arm started to cramp, “I understand that Graham ate meat, but just  _ thinking _ about it is nauseates me, and you know I don’t get sick easily.”

“Except for what happened on Saturday,” she casually rebutted, and stroked Bo’s knuckles before returning his paw with a sigh, and leaned back in the seat.

“Don’t remind me,” Bo said with a subdued gag, and flexed his arm to get the feeling into it once again. “I’m  _ guessing _ you learned something really nasty over in Knotash, huh, about Unlucky Hect?”

Judy seemed wary of meeting Bo’s gaze, infrequently though it was in beseeching her, but she saw his eyes, at last, and felt she could say what she wished she didn’t have to. “Graham gave me a book, the journal of a rabbit that I can’t help but feel was lost to history, and even though it was a recreation, the original was  _ clearly  _ rescued from the fire, a fate which I more and more suspect was  _ intentional _ ,” she dared to think, “There is…  _ solid _ reasoning that this rabbit, a mariner from almost a hundred years ago…”

“That he created the modern horror of Bag-o’-Bones?” Bo suggested in the lingering disquiet.

Purple eyes cast down to her feet dangling off the van’s front bench. “I… I don’t have all the facts, as of yet, and I might not manage to read it  _ objectively _ …” she hoarsely admitted, “so I gave the book to Esther.”

“For a non-bunny perspective,” he inferred.

“Yeah… but one familiar enough with bunny culture to not dismiss it outright.” And so Judy sat as they approached the Hopps Family Farm, its golden glow from across the fields so alike to how it looked only the night before… and she in no better spirits than when she last crossed that threshold. “Thanks for listening, Bo,” she said with another rub of his forearm.

He smiled warmly. “Always, Judy,” said the brown rabbit, “but I can’t help but feel like there’s something else bothering you.”

“So it’s that obvious,” she conceded, and then lay her head against his bicep once more, “Of all those stories about Bag-o’-Bones, what would you say is the scariest part about him?”

“ _ That’s _ a long list… I could give you a ‘Top 3’ if you’d like.”

“I think…” Judy pondered aloud, “of all the ruthlessness and carnage, the scariest thing, to me, is that he seemed capable of making monsters.”

The van drove in quiet for a full two beats. “‘Monsters’… like, fiends summoned from the abyss, or…?”

“Mammals… normal mammals that he drove insane and mutilated into his ‘cursed crew’, like a malicious plague,” she explained with such a distance in her voice, it was as though the words carried her spirit out through the mouth and then the open window, “There aren’t… a  _ lot _ of stories about it, not that I wholly believed it when I heard them, but that’s what scared me most about Hector Redbeard.”

With a crackle of pebbles and dirt, the van pulled off to the roadside as the farmhouse was still quite distant but visible, its brake and gear set to park with a decisive churn of machinery. A soft click and Bo’s seatbelt was undone. Another soft click and he undid Judy’s seatbelt so that he could hoist her into his lap, dress and all.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why…?” she asked.

“Because in a few minutes, you’ll be swamped by family -- both immediate and extended -- who will want to know  _ everything _ about this dress you’re wearing, why you haven’t been answering your phone, why  _ I _ haven’t been answering  _ my _ phone… The last thing you need right now is for them to wonder why you’re all shook up. So, this is to bolster you for all that,” he explained, and though powerful, his arms were as light as sheets throughout the embrace.

Judy leaned further into him, “Except  _ you _ were the one who asked me about ‘all that’,” she teased.

“Not as much as your aunts and uncles would have,” he answered in equal tone and then hugged a little tighter to her sudden shudder.

“Okay,” she affirmed, the steel returned to her voice as she slipped out of Bo’s lap and buckled herself back into place, “Let’s do this.”

After a swift buckling of his own, he put the van in gear and pulled back onto the road, “‘Nothing quite like a dose of reality to clear the head’, right?”

“No fair using my own words against me,” Judy retorted, and then grinned, “Your banter’s  _ really _ coming along, though.”

“That was bantering?”

Judy paid his confusion with a sardonic quirk of the brow… that shifted to astonishment in relation to the increasingly smugger curve of Bo’s mouth. Perhaps it was the idea that, were they foxes, Bo might very well have “earned a point” on her which further calmed the nerves… the simple knowledge that she wasn’t the  _ only  _ sly bunny around.

No little bunnies were playing in the front yard of the Hopps farmhouse, nor were any big bunnies working the fields, for it was dark and therefore only appropriate to stay inside until dawn. Nighttime was  _ no _ time for rabbits, after all; without proper protections and reason to venture outside, of course, like the opening ceremony for the Tri-Burrow Reunion. Judy meditated on the emptiness around the homestead and its juxtaposition with the series of events that lead her to the current situation: Knotash’s emptiness was a vacuum, sterile and ominous, yet what she felt at home was like a finished pot of soup, still warm even after the last bowl was scooped out to fill the last hungry tummy. It heartened her mood to consider both from and into where she escaped.

“You know, it’s funny,” she chimed as the van pulled to a complete stop with all its necessary parking procedures, which ended along with the engine, “This is the third time in as many days that Gid’s van stopped off here. It must be a record or something.”

“At most, he usually came every  _ other  _ day, didn’t he,” Bo recalled, aiding in the conversational distraction as he could.

Judy gazed down at the dress with an airy moan and a speculative pause. “Ongoing investigation or not, I’ll need to be forthright with  _ everything _ about Uncle Magnus and Graham… it’s the only way to explain what happened. Mom and Dad should know first, along with a few aunts and uncles… and Pop-Pop, too, and then we’ll go from there-”

Both bunnies jumped at Bo’s ringtone filling the van, a hearty, instrumental fanfare of the  Captain Warren theme song. His digger’s paws fumbled the oddly slippery phone before he jammed its screen into a grinning cheek, “Hi, Mrs. H!” Bo about yelled, “Wh-What can I do for ya’? …  _ Oh _ , right, Judy, of course, why  _ else _ would you be calling…?” he continued in gradual calm, looking to Judy for a prompting, “She’s with  _ me _ , actually, and we’re right outside, will be right _ inside  _ in about a minute-” and then flinched something terrible, “ _ second _ , I mean, a few  _ seconds, _ just a few, so we’ll see you in few seconds, then.” His thumb was quick to end the call.

“She sounds angry.”

“I think ‘angry’ was a few hours ago, and an entirely  _ new _ word will need inventing for whatever she is right now,” Bo observed, and opened the driver-side door to step out.

“It’s clear that absolute, unabridged honesty is the  _ only _ option available for me,” Judy determined, following suit to hop out (and locking) the passenger-side door to the welcoming dirt and grass of her family’s land, taking a moment to feel it under her toes. Around came Bo, and so she picked up the front of her dress and joined him in a scampering towards the front door, which he was first to reach. Judy stood on the porch, trepidatious as her keen ears caught the quieting on the other side, and by the brown rabbit’s staying, knew he heard it, too. It was not the first time she stayed out after dark… or without calling in (and likely, enough, it wouldn’t be the last), but she didn’t or  _ couldn’t _ know how aware her family was of the situation; for all she knew that they knew, she might very well have been  _ dead _ . Judy steeled herself with whatever resolve remained to accept the punishment due her and nodded for Bo to open the door.

The living room was deathly still, silent save for the gentle tick-tock of the grandfather clock that, to date, told crystal-perfected time. It was often to that very clock which Judy was directed to know  _ how _ late she was as a child, when necessary. Per the norm, Bonnie was the first rabbit Judy saw coming in after hours, and immediately adjacent would be Stu. Currently, there must have been over three dozen aunts, uncles, and older cousins, all in the living room as a tribunal. In her rebellious teenage years, Judy  _ demanded  _ to know what difference it made that she, a single rabbit amongst hundreds, mattered if she were unaccounted for, and as it was eventually drilled into her and each of her sibling’s head whenever  _ they  _ doubted the same thing, “everybunny counts”.

Judy soberly approached while Bo closed the door behind her, paws dropping the front of the dress as she looked around at what she figured were indignant expressions, soon revealed to be awestruck. She began with a stiff frown and a clearing of her throat, before looking directly into her Mom’s violet eyes, those same eyes she shared. “I know I’ve been…  _ absent _ for the whole day, but I have a  _ very _ … maybe not a  _ good _ explanation, but it  _ is _ what happened-”

“It’s probably a long,  _ thorough _ explanation,” Bonnie conversationally broke in with a muttering of agreement from some extended family members.

Taken aback, Judy softly groaned to regain her bearings, “Well…  _ yes _ , but-”

“You’ll want to get comfortable first, right? Sounds like it’ll be a  _ doozy _ ,” Stu then added, also conversationally and with continued agreement muttered from more extended family members.

Judy glanced at a shrugging Bo for support, and then awkwardly chuckled a single time, “That would be  _ nice _ , but not…  _ necessary _ -”

“Four minutes!” Bonnie called out to a sudden scrambling of unpocketed cell phones and cameras, “Four minutes to take pictures!”

So, for the next three-and-a-half minutes, Judy marveled at how a room of bunnies changed  _ so _ drastically… and then remembered that it wasn’t at all an unusual thing; for  _ her  _ family, at least. The tide of emotion swirled as an eddy, admiration beaming from every face and behind every photo snapped as she was guided,  _ led _ through the living room as if she were at a ball. An uncle dressed in everyday garb would daintily take her by the paw and spin her in a step to a nephew, or cousin, and as she twirled the gossamer layers swept as an ephemeral mist, gracing the fingertips and palms of nearby aunts and nieces. True, though her makeup was nowhere near as polished as it was that afternoon, and her dress muddied at the hem and in places disheveled, Judy became the shining gem of the Hopps household for a few shorts minutes that night; for while bunnies do not  _ break  _ the mold, they do  _ stretch _ it, striving to show what a bunny  _ could _ be… so long as it is  _ only _ amongst family and kept  _ within _ the warren.

The dozen-partnered waltz Judy found herself dancing was neither dizzying nor confusing, but fun in its spontaneous frivolity, and when she was suddenly against Bo, time slowed and not another relative came forward to spin her about. He took the lead (as best he could) and space was given to allow for their motions, the arm around her waist supporting a dip or a lifting into the air. The four minutes were almost up, and after them another four minutes more to change into attire proper for her parental reprimand, but what happened before that could be was a testament to Judy’s empathic influence on a room. Its effect was neither immediate nor absolute, but like an ice sheet incurring an avalanche, it soon engulfed her loved ones in a meteoric dread and ominous chill.

“Mag, this is a surprise,” Stu cordially said from the kitchen, walking back into the living room with a cellphone to his ear. There were very few relatives Stu would reference as “Mag” -- only  _ one  _ whose significance could hardly be exaggerated -- and while seemingly attempted to calm his farm-brother from the city, he’d gained the undivided attention of Judy, and then Bo, as he called for an already invasive quiet. He strode right up to Judy, relatives clearing a path for him, “Yes, I have her right here… Of course, she’s safe and sound, why wouldn’t she be?” Stu asked en route, and then added in paternal amusement, “It drives Bonnie and me up the wall when any kit of ours doesn’t check in, but they show up  _ eventually _ , ain’t that right, Bon?” he continued, pulling the phone from his ear and then talking out the side of his mouth while blocking the mic on his call, “ _ Jeez _ , Jude, whatever you were up to today must’ve been one  _ doozy _ of a doozy.”

“Absolutely, Stu,” Bonnie said with maternal patience, soon let through the settling crowd to stand adjacent, “but  _ why _ is Mag calling at this hour?”

“Oh, he was worried about Judy, is all,” and then frowned with a shrug before listening to more of what was said, “The dress? Oh, sure, right here,” the excited Stu revealed, and as a result of a flick of his finger and a digital chime, up popped a video call connecting Bunnyburrow and Knotash.

“ _ Judy _ ,” Magnus enunciated in sucrose admiration.

“Uncle Magnus,” Judy responded, with all the politeness she could muster to mask her contempt.

“ _ Oh _ ,” he continued, “it does look  _ ravishing _ , doesn’t it. If you would humor me but this once, might I… see just a  _ little  _ twirl?” the dark-spotted rabbit asked, holding still a handkerchief under his eye. In the previous four minutes of encompassing relatives capturing her likeness and touching the dress with such reverent tenderness, never did Judy feel suffocated or patronized; such was  _ not _ the case in the immediate four seconds of a phone call spanning two-hundred miles. Even so, she abided his request by providing him two  _ half- _ twirls one way and then the other, only letting her dress shimmer but not showing her back. “Such beauty,” Magnus commended, and then softly choked, “I know it’s  _ silly  _ of me, but I guess I’m just so  _ relieved _ to know you’re okay…”

Righteous indignation surged within Judy to reveal Magnus as the insidious charlatan that he was, and with not only the facts but the backing of the Felix, she might see his iron grip finally give away and in cuffs… however, she stayed her “sword of justice” for the sake of a single, gravitational concern. Stepping, nearly  _ vaulting _ forward, Judy retrieved the phone and cradled it, brow furrowed with a rapt inquisition, “What do you mean; what happened?” she demanded as courteously as she could.

“It’s  _ Grav _ ,” Magnus choked again and dabbed an eye, “his car wrecked after he dropped you off at Hexward… He… he’s in critical condition… a cracked skull… punctured lung… it’s a miracle he’s not already dead… The doctors say that  _ if _ he survives the night, he should bounce back… He’s a  _ fighter _ , you know…”

The revelation echoed through the room despite Judy’s relatives exchanging shock and surprise not only to a terrible accident but of  _ her _ whereabouts. The opening salvo was loosed and Magnus struck dead-center… any claim, any  _ accusation _ to the contrary might still bring him to justice, familial drama notwithstanding. But… Judy couldn’t ignore her intuition, and leaned in closer to study the screen with each detriment Magnus listed off… until “fighter” was said and she understood what  _ he _ was telling her, or rather, what he wanted to  _ show _ her: the knuckles cleaned of blood, along with the shiner and cut lip hidden by the handkerchief… and the obsidian glint in his eye when her face was near enough that only she might see.

“I’m so sorry, Judy,” Magnus pressed on, “I offered to chaperone your dinner, but Grav insisted I not… He just wanted to make it up to you, to apologize for everything he’s done… I can’t help but feel responsible, though. I count my lucky stars that you got to the Felix safely, and that he got you back home,” he said, to a collective gasp from every other bunny in the room, “Still, that was so  _ reckless _ of Grav, so unlike him… I should have at least restricted the cider he had with the dinner… how could I be so careless…”

“Now, see here, Mag, you  _ can’t _ blame yourself, Grav is an  _ adult, _ as you said last night,” Stu explained, retrieving the phone from Judy’s willowy grip as his voice,  _ everyone’s _ voice became more and more distant to her…

* * *

Bonnie stood beside her daughter in a small room of the farmhouse with a high window, a closet, and a vanity; commonly used for guests or visiting relatives to get changed or touched up when a bedroom was not available. It was Bonnie’s maternal sway which earned them their privacy as the sole occupants, despite a few of Judy’s sisters and cousins that wanted to help in removing her makeup and dress. The lily-white, silver-laced gown was hung with care, and a robe wrapped about the younger of the gray rabbits to sit her down for the unmasking of the powder, the lipstick, the eyeshadow…

“I sometimes wish you’d wear makeup more often, Bun-Bun, you do look beautiful in it,” Bonnie commended.

After Judy sputtered at the little bit which got in her mouth, she answered, “Only ‘sometimes’?”

“Well, that’s because you’re plenty beautiful  _ without _ it, too,” she said and touched under the grinning chin, “and there really isn’t anyone that could make you do something you didn’t want to. You get that from your father, of course.”

“ _ Really _ . Not from you?”

“Now now, he is a straight-shooting,  _ authentic _ rabbit,” and then added under her breath, before continuing in a normal tone, “although I don’t know where  _ he  _ got it from. In his youth, he was stubborn and daring… age and children mellowed him out, of course, but he isn’t afraid to cry, or laugh, or speak his mind,” she swooned, ears folding back with a smile before they sprung up again in her focus. “I still remember the day he showed up in Bunnyburrow, walked right up to my father and said, ‘Mr. Otto Hopps, sir, I’m one of your new carrot farmers’.”

“And then Pop-Pop chased him off the property with a stick,” Judy laughed as she recalled the story, “but he comes back the next day, and the next, and every day for a whole month. He has to sneak in to help the harvest without getting caught, right?”

“Dad didn’t ‘want no city-bunnies ruinin’ mah crops’,” Bonnie added with an appropriate accent, “but your father was green from his thumb to his shoulder on both sides, and after one year we went from a farm scraping by to selling surplus at market. Stu taught himself just about everything there was to know about farming back when he was in Knotash, even had his own garden, despite Reggie’s wishes…” she casually said, and earned a flickering glance from her daughter’s violet eyes, and so continued, “Your father didn’t want a fake sky, or fake dirt, or food grown by someone else… He’s an authentic rabbit, and that’s why he gave up everything to come to Bunnyburrow, to the Hopps Farm, because it was good, honest sky and good, honest dirt… and good, honest rabbits.”

With the last bit of makeup gone, Bonnie sat beside a slightly stunned Judy, and then rest a paw on her forearm. “Stu and Magnus are farm-brothers, through-and-through, but Reggie always wanted his estate to go to one of his  _ own _ sons,” she said significantly, “He trusted your father most of all, and maybe he meant for the best but at times was a bit too…  _ firm _ in his lessons, which Magnus had to learn  _ repeatedly _ . It’s another reason why Stu left for Bunnyburrow, and never looked back.”

Judy’s head buzzed, but not in the numbness she experienced when her Mom first escorted her from the living room, or in the daze from which she awoke while walking down a hallway, past minimally-inhabited rooms suitable for their needs, for the one instead at the very end. “Why’re you telling me this?” she asked with great caution.

Bonnie quietly sighed as she glanced about at the cozy boudoir, “Because this room is one of the few in the house that you could say almost anything without somebunny listening in, probably from the insulation crammed into the walls, being one of the outer rooms, as it is. So…” and returned her gaze to Judy, “I don’t have  _ any _ worries talking about Magnus in here.”

“Mom… I…” she mumbled aghast, and then tried, “How…?”

“Bun-Bun…” Bonnie endeared and then reached over to gently embrace her daughter, “Ever since you were little, you’ve been a  _ very _ emotional rabbit, so much so that it affects others; your Uncle Terry calls it ‘reflecting’, and I can never repay him for helping you through it. Even as an adult, I can still feel the room shift with you… when Magnus told you about Grav, I felt that same hopelessness as the time you returned during the Pred-Scare, blaming  _ yourself _ for all the bad that happened… I couldn’t forgive myself if I let you fall into that again, Judy, and I’ll be…” Bonnie fumed, “I’ll be  _ damned _ if I stand by while Magnus runs roughshod over  _ my _ family; pardon my language.” She huffed and thought a moment, and then held Judy’s paws, looking into the tear-beaded eyes, those eyes colored same as hers, “If there’s  _ anything _ you need to tell me about him -- and I  _ know _ there is, I can see it on your face -- then you go right ahead. Okay?”

“Okay,” Judy hiccupped, inclining her head into the paw cradling her cheek until her mind cleared. “Graham -- that’s his real name, not ‘Grav’ -- didn’t get into an accident, his skill behind the wheel is  _ uncanny _ and he loves his car too much to let that happen. He also didn’t drink any cider at dinner, and Magnus didn’t offer to chaperone; I never saw him  _ once _ while I was at the Hopps Manor, luckily. I…” she paused and took a breath, “I have reason to believe that Magnus beat Graham within an inch of his life because he helped me escape, and used the car accident to cover it up. His knuckles are scraped as if he were in a brawl, and he was hiding a black eye with a cut lip behind that hanky, so Graham  _ must’ve _ fought back. I… I didn’t say anything because I’m afraid that Magnus is using his own son to keep me quiet… all he would need is to pinch a hose or unplug a machine, and Graham might not last the night…” she began to choke, perhaps from sadness, perhaps from anger… perhaps from self-admonition, “Even after tormenting Gideon, assaulting Nick, harassing Esther… all of that and  _ more _ he’s done to Bo… I can’t just let him  _ be killed  _ like that… And now I feel like I’ve let Magnus-!”

Bonnie’s quick hushing and cooing soothed her daughter once more, “You didn’t  _ ‘let’ _ Magnus do anything; he’s  _ always _ been a taker.”

“It must sound so  _ stupid _ , though, accusing him of beating his own son, but…”

The Hopps matriarch grunted with pursed lips as she caressed Judy’s paw.

“Mom…?”

She hesitated. “You know that your Aunt Clea is an albino, right?”

“Yeah,” Judy answered, feeling more and more like she was watching the conversation, not engaging in it, “she dyes it every once in a while, that’s why she had the same fur-color as Graham last night.”

“And you know that bruises and stuff show through on the fur in albinos if they’re bad enough,” Bonnie warily continued, “The black spots on the side of her face… according to your father, they’re from when her sister spilled something that stained her pelt -- ink, or maybe paint -- and for as long as I’ve known her she’s always tried to cover them up, but one time, after Grav was born, they were darker than ever.”

Judy’s horror-stricken gasp was sharp on the ears, “And she  _ stayed _ with him?”

“I’ve seen it in other couples before,” Bonnie lamented, “It’s awful, but unless the abused  _ chooses _ to leave, they’ll always be controlled. I’ve approached Clea about it, once or twice but  _ such _ a long time ago… she said it was ‘her fault’, and that she can ‘change him’,” Bonnie added with a shake of her head, “I haven’t told anybunny else out of respect for her, but I  _ believe  _ you when you say he raised a fist to his own family, Judy, because I’d bet my lucky foot he’s done it before. Now…” the maternal rabbit huffed, in a paradoxical way that both comforted and chastised, “please tell me  _ why _ Magnus is going after you like this.”

A pregnant pause gave Judy enough time to twiddle her fingers. “How…  _ much _ do you already know?”

“Let’s just say the rumor mill hasn’t been  _ this _ hot since the Pred-Scare.”

“Right…” the younger of the two said and then repeated the practiced summary of Magnus’s scheme to test a new Night Howler drug through toxic whipped cream in a pie-eating contest, wherein Gideon Grey was meant as a scapegoat should anything go horribly wrong and collateral damage if everything went horribly  _ right _ . Judy continued to explain how they got the evidence to Sheriff Longmare, and then the backlash of a Gravedigger copycat sent to hold her, Nick, and Esther hostage to ensure Gideon’s compliance, leading up to a bullet-pointed version of her day in Knotash (downplaying the severity of her interaction with Graham), and then her meeting with the Felix himself. Judy’s retelling  _ was  _ concise but required pauses at moments when Bonnie looked like she suffered a dizzy spell. It was quite a different experience than when she explained it all to the stoic Felix Lapis, especially when she got to the part of testing the drugged whipped cream on  _ herself _ , and immediately outside the house, no less. “Probably not my  _ wisest  _ decision…” Judy admitted, shrinking back at the divine restraint demonstrated by her mother, whose ears looked ready to catch fire.

“It really takes the cake, but go ahead and continue.”

“You’re sure?”

“Very.”

“Because if you’d rather…”

“I’ll manage, somehow; just finish up.”

“Okay… not that there’s much more to tell. Nick and I figured that Graham had ears all over Bunnyburrow in case anyone caught wind of what was going on, and even though the contest finished today, they might still be here… like, downstairs,  _ right now _ . I’m sure Magnus is still using them, and that’s how he knew when to call,” Judy concluded and rubbed her knees.

Bonnie sighed retrospectively, less perturbed than she was a minute prior, “Gideon, that poor boy… he tried so hard to turn his life around, even managed to earn the trust of us bunnies enough to be the first fox in the TBR, and  _ this _ happens to him. What was the  _ midnicampum holicithias _ drug supposed to do, anyway? You glossed over that just a bit.”

“It…” Judy awkwardly shrugged, “We’re not sure,  _ exactly _ … and likely won’t until we apprehend Magnus. The best  _ I _ can figure is it’s supposed to… well, invoke the death-shriek in rabbits.”

“Of all the dumbest things…” Bonnie scoffed, “Now don’t get me wrong, if that nasty stuff is toxic, or does anything like what happened in the city a year ago, it’s worth stopping, but the  _ ‘death-shriek’ _ … might as well try to put our antlers back on…”

“That’s how  _ I _ felt at first, but whether it’s real or not doesn’t matter if someone’s willing to hurt others trying to get it.”

“Hard to argue with  _ that _ ,” the maternal Hopps determined.

“As it is,” Judy continued, “Esther’s meeting with Felix Lapis tomorrow to go over the case, while Nick and I are going to see Dr. Honey over in Preds’ Corner to get drug-tested. We don’t know how long it’ll stay in our systems, but once it’s out we can go back to the precinct.” A wistful smile caught Judy’s attention, to which she could not help but smirk, “What?”

“Oh, it’s just… I’m sure you’ve done more for rabbit/fox relations than any other mammal in existence,” Bonnie mused but it was ephemeral as the lurking melancholy was revealed. “We should get to bed,” she interrupted herself, and stood up decisively, “I’ve got little ones to tuck in, and after  _ your _ day, you need to get plenty of rest-”

“ _ Mom _ ,” Judy beseeched, sitting up and leaning forward to touch her mother’s elbow, “If you have something to tell me… then you go right ahead. Okay?”

Bonnie inclined her head, that wistful smile still on her as she sat back down, “You’re definitely your daddy’s daughter,” she playfully chastised and patted Judy’s paw, “I can’t help but think of your great-great-aunt Laverne, is all, how your grandfather would talk about her when I was really young, and how he tried to tell you and your siblings… at least until his memory started to go.  _ She _ wanted nothing more than to better relations between mammals, you know, especially with foxes… but what happened to her…”

“That’s  _ hardly  _ a comparison to make, is it?”

“You’re  _ right _ , but all this talk of Night Howler and what it can do to predators, and  _ you’re _ in the middle of it… Can you blame a mother for worrying?”

“But Night Howler affects-”

“I know!” Bonnie cut in, and then breathed to calm herself while absently tracing a sizeable divet in her arm, which her fur did well to cover, “Forgive me. I  _ know _ it can… and that’s what scares me. Just… be careful.”

“I’m sorry,” Judy quietly said, pressing in to wrap both arms about Bonnie with a kiss on her cheek, and earned a kiss on her own cheek in turn.

“Don’t be, Bun-Bun,” she said kindly and rubbed her daughter’s wrist, “Us moms are just the worrying sort, and will go to great lengths to make sure our kids are safe; it’s in our biology… both bunnies  _ and _ foxes.” Bonnie then smiled and cupped her daughter’s amused cheek, “You’ll understand when you have some of your own, one day.”

The daughter responded to her mother with a downy chuckle, “I’ll get right on that.”

* * *

A bell rang overhead as Jackie Wilde stepped into  Hightopp & Co. , the familiar establishment to which her mate John sent  _ all  _ his clientele should they need a hatter to top off a classy ensemble. The vixen acted as she always did in that shop, acquainted as she was to her friend’s habitual “greeting” of preliminary absence, and admired the multitudinous headwear with an idle craning of her neck as she sauntered up to the counter, awaiting service for what she carried in with her. The hats on display varied in degrees between austere and ostentatious, a curving average which favored the former over the latter, even if it was the latter which garnered the brighter displays. The brightest display was the oldest, a battered top hat of dingy black tapered to the brim with a flowery, salmon-pink ribbon, whose tails whipped about in a starched suspension beneath the cat-shaped, wide-grinning dummy-head upon which it sat.

“Hello, Chess,” Jackie greeted, catching a pair of luminescent eyes in the display’s reflective glass, and so pivoted to face her friend and confidante.

Chester Vandersnatch, as he was more formally known, resembled smoke in a few ways, from his subtle smell to his demeanor, from his silence to his movements. The rotund wildcat and top hatter of  Hightopp was not one so easily spotted, but once he was it was often a mammal’s further surprise that they could have ever missed him in the first place. “ _ Jackie _ ,” he purred, an already wide smile spread wider still, a smile which would normally narrow the eyes only enlarged  _ his _ further, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Her paw touched the hatbox placed on the counter to direct those bright eyes to it, “The fitting’s worn out and needs replacing, is all,” she said simply enough, and then added wryly, “A bit beyond my skill level, I’m afraid, though not for lack of trying. I was going to stop by later in the week, but John and I are headed into Bunnyburrow tomorrow evening, and I wanted to get this done before then. That won’t be a problem, I hope?”

“Not in the  _ slightest _ ,” he assured with an easy air and took a peek inside at the short-brimmed headwear, a simple piece of weathered beige with a bundle of modest faux greenery and an albatross feather attached to the band. Chess ran a finger along the plumage and then checked the lining, “This can be ready after lunch tomorrow, and I’ll even toss in a new  _ feather _ for you,” the cat said, carefully returning the hat to its box.

“You’re the  _ best _ , Chess,” Jackie sweetly thanked, “By the way, how’re Dean and Duncan?”

“My nephews are watching the news, of course,” he reported with a dark, jovial chuckle, “It’s their  _ favorite _ program, no doubt for that Fabienne Growley, enchanting snow leopard that she is.”

“Well, boys will be boys.”

“And how’s  _ your _ ‘boy’ doing?” he casually asked, replacing the lid with a significant glance to the vixen, but with no lack of a grin.

Jackie sighed and adjusted her purse strap, “It’s why we’re leaving so last minute: to head out to see him. He’s  _ okay _ , it’s just… family drama,” she then chuckled sadly, “Go figure, right? And oh, it’s meant as a  _ surprise _ ,” and winked with a finger touched to her smirking lips.

“Rest assured, my dear, you’ll have a hat  _ most _ fine when you see him,” Chess purred, “and  _ do _ give him my regards.”

“Of course, Chess,” the vixen agreed as she turned to depart, “and give  _ my _ regards to the twins. Fairfarren,” she then exchanged before reaching the door. At the bell’s final jingle, she was gone into the lamplit night without a trace that she was ever there; Jackie learned from the best, after all.

The grinning cat locked the door and killed the lights, stalking into the back with a sweep of his tail. No sooner had he sat down at his workbench, engulfed by the tools of his craft, than did a pair of cream-colored wildcats both shorter and rounder than he, but not too much younger, follow along while peering all the curiouser at what he brought.

“Ms. Jackie needs done a job, does she,” Duncan said in a quick tone.

“Obvious, else why leave a box,” Dean responded just as quick.

“Last-minutes mean dire circumstances.”

“Contrariwise, she’d be asking at first-minutes.”

“And with her favorite hat, too,” Chess quietly concurred, removing the headwear once more to reverently set it aside, albatross feather gleaming beneath the lamp. Within the box, he pulled out the sheet of paper used to line the bottom, and then gingerly spread it over the tabletop. With a flick of his finger, the lamp was turned off, and the three cats’ eyes beamed in the severe darkness… at an alphanumeric code written with an ink that was transparent in light, and glowed so faintly in its absence that it was visible only to the nocturnal vision of a predator. Chess pulled out his phone, its dim glow illuminating the feline faces as an app opened, decrypted, and its access granted with the cipher. When the photo of a llama in a very expensive suit popped up, Chess’s smile faltered until only the barest smirk tweaked the corner of his lips, “Uh  _ oh… _ ”

“That’d be the dire circumstances,” Dean observed.

“Why’s he coming, I wonder,” Duncan said.

“We must be mad to take this job.”

“Not a must to be mad, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yes,” Chester Vandersnatch said in a dark, jovial purr, bright eyes scanning the phone’s screen as his grin returned with a vengeance, “things have  _ indeed _ gone mad.”

* * *

It was well past midnight and Judy had been restless for some few hours, finding a new position in bed every once in a while until, at last,  _ finished  _ with it all. She stared at the ceiling, dwelling on thoughts she could no longer ignore… fighting to contain a dread for Graham’s life, indignant that dreading was all she could do… There was no other reason for Magnus to put on a show for her like he did unless everything he said about Graham was accurate, and so long as she kept quiet he’d surely “bounce back” in the morning. But the night would not pass soon enough with such a tumultuous weight on her, and she doubted if whiling away the hours until sleep finally claimed her would help at all. So, she instead decided to focus on what she  _ could  _ do something about, a weight of a different kind…

After slipping out from the sheets and straightening an overly long shirt, Judy looked over her shoulder at the groggy rabbit ear erecting towards her. “Going to the bathroom,” she whispered as low as she dared, and when the ear flopped back with the sleeper, she tiptoed down the hall and into the restroom. Water churned in the porcelain bowl and Judy thoroughly washed her paws before she checked the empty hallway, listening for any  _ other  _ rabbits  _ also _ up in the dead of night until she determined there was no one else but her (and if they _ were _ , they hushed themselves and waited for the footsteps to pass before pretending to sleep).

Encouraged by the solitude as she was, Judy remained calm while creeping back downstairs, stepping around luggage stacked with care against the walls until a three-bunny breadth walkway was reduced to one so that all available space could be dedicated to sleeping visitors. There was one room of the entire farmhouse that Judy knew contained only a single rabbit: Pop-Pop’s study. It’s where the Hoppses of Bunnyburrow kept their  _ own _ archive of history, family photo albums, documents or copies thereof, items of such significance that they defined the very family as a whole… Pop-Pop curated it and a select crew of grandchildren kept everything clean. It was nowhere  _ near _ as grand or impressive as the one in Knotash, but it was theirs and theirs alone. She also knew he slept there regularly because of the solitude it afforded him.

Judy inched her ears in and heard her grandfather’s distinctive snoring, and then inched her eyes in and spotted him in his favorite armchair, glasses resting on a book next to his favorite reading lamp on top of his favorite end table (along with his cane and newly refilled prescription within arm’s reach). His robe was securely tied and beneath it a thick set of microfiber pajamas covered in a pattern of smiling, bunny-eared radishes (not his favorite, but comfortable all the same). Making no real attempts at stealth, the gray rabbit strode into the moonlit study and stood beside the soundly snoozing centenarian.

“Pop-Pop,” Judy whispered, but received no answer, not daring to raise her voice any higher lest it carried through the door, “ _ Pop-Pop _ ,” she tried again, but barely got a jostle. She nudged him lightly on the shoulder and he grunted but was otherwise unresponsive. One thing she knew he  _ always _ responded to was “Grandpa Otto!”, which she whispered loudly.

Pop-Pop flailed and snorted, wide eyes stabbing the darkness even if it was his ears scanning like an antenna. He fumbled for his bottle-frame glasses and squinted at the silver-aglow rabbit standing over him, his voice ravaged by an ever-present wheezing cough, “Trudy?”

“ _ Judy _ .”

“Oh,” the old rabbit grunted, although whether he sounded relieved or disappointed was anyone’s guess. He flicked on the lamp in a soft grumble and rubbed an eye, the soft light casting his fur color as a faded, brownish-gray, “What’s wrong, why aren’t you asleep?”

“Why are  _ you _ sleeping in your chair? You  _ know _ the doctor said it’s not good for your back.”

“Don’t you sly at me, young lady, I’m over a hundred years old, I can sleep  _ where- _ and  _ how _ ever I want,” he grouched, “My chair is comfier by  _ far _ than that cot which keeps showing up in here.”

Judy patiently huffed, anticipating his complaints about aches in the morning, “Sorry.”

Pop-Pop studied his granddaughter for half-a-moment as he settled. “Shame about Grav, nice boy like him,” he assumed, “That’s just city-bunnies, I guess, always in a hurry to get wherever they’re  _ going  _ that they never have time to think about where they  _ are _ .”

Judy patiently fidgeted, having tried to avoid the subject, “Grav’s name is ‘Graham’, actually, something I only learned recently, and he’s in the care of some of the  _ best _ medical minds in the city, so… well-wishes are what he needs from us right now. But he’s not…  _ why  _ I’m here.”

“What  _ did  _ you wake me up for then,  _ hmm _ ?” he demanded with a yawn that melded into disgruntled rambling, “Bunnies shouldn’t be out and about in the witching hours, it’s when those shiny-eyed  _ devils _ do their hunting and their scheming. You’d  _ know  _ something was wrong when they’d stare at an empty wall in pitch darkness, or pass around blank paper like it was something at all. Shifty lot of them… it’s unnatural!” 

Judy patiently fumed, reminded of the chore it was to talk with Pop-Pop, “Don’t worry, it’s important bunny-related business.” Walking in front of him and his chair, she sat down on the ottoman and looked up into the stony face of her maternal grandfather, whose sole actions were blinking his eyes and smacking his lips. His ears were the most expressive ears Judy ever had the pleasure to watch, though, reminded of when Pop-Pop openly told all his “crazy stories”, before they inevitably muddled and confuddled within an aged mind. “You  _ knew _ Laverne Hopps, right?” she asked.

The rigid ears sagged and swayed above the old coot, as though tuning to a frequency, “You could say that. I worked in the kitchen of the Hopps Manor back in Forestdwell as a young lad, it’s where  _ I _ got my name ‘Hopps’, after all. Good rabbits them, very wealthy merchants before they went destitute.” He sighed with longing, eyes drifting in a soft smile, “And Laverne was the most  _ beautiful _ bunny in the world, with the voice of a nightingale… ‘twas the kindest gift to give a servant for her to say their name. Even though I was far too young at the time, I fancied  _ myself _ one of her many suitors… until of course I met her niece, your grandmother, rest her soul.” His face shifted from forlorn reminiscence to stony expectation once again, “I reckon you’ve heard this all before, though.”

“ _ Yes _ , but there was something more I’ve been wondering,” the younger rabbit carefully tread, even going so far as to feign uncertainty, “The Hoppses had a… ‘housefox’, I think they were called?”

“Most  _ did _ , back then,” Pop-Pop said curtly, “even families that weren’t well off might be gifted one, to stay curses and the like, which were as real as plague and disease in those days. You had to keep both eye  _ and _ ear on your housefox, though, make sure they didn’t write their  _ own _ curses,” he continued matter-of-factly, “Now, the tods were pranksters and the vixens crafty, but so long as they behaved a fox was good luck to have at the house;  _ a _ fox,” he then sternly specified with a single raised finger. Yet, Grandpa Otto couldn’t restrain a grin as he pondered, idly scratching his chin, “Like that… that  _ big _ one who brings me those porridge tarts. I’d be scared-to-death seeing a fox his size squeezing in here, but I  _ do _ like those tarts…”

Judy was hopeful despite suffering through the  _ flagrant  _ insensitivity towards predators of the era. “You don’t happen to remember his  _ name _ , do you?”

“Well now, let’s see…” the old rabbit considered with a rubbing of his chin, “Was it… Greg?”

“‘Greg’, like short for ‘Gregory’?”

“You should know,  _ you’re _ the one that fraternizes with him,” he grumped with no attempts to hide his disapproval, previous sentiment notwithstanding, “It’s a wonder you haven’t been  _ eaten _ or  _ squashed _ yet, rubbing elbows with chompers like you do-”

“Gideon  _ Grey _ ,” she corrected through grinding teeth, “is  _ not _ a ‘housefox’, Pop-Pop, he is a  _ friend _ and  _ business partner _ ,” and then simmered, “What about  _ Lovey’s  _ housefox?”

“What about her?”

“Her  _ name _ !” Judy almost yelled, paws thrown up in exasperation, but then was stunned as if she collided with the ceiling, “Wait,  _ ‘her’ _ ?”

“How’re you so familiar with ‘Lovey’, anyway?” the older rabbit suspected, leaning on an elbow and squinting through his eyeglasses, “I only ever use that name for your mother, because she reminds me so much of Laverne. Looks almost  _ exactly _ like her, you know, which is what attracted your father-”

“Hold on, Pop-Pop," Judy eagerly and politely interjected, inclining with paws braced to his knobbly knees, "go back to ‘her’ for a second.”

“Who ‘her’, your mother?”

“ _ No _ ,” she groaned, “Lovey’s housefox!”

“You just said Greg  _ wasn’t _ a ‘housefox’,” Pop-Pop grouched, “make up your darn mind!”

Gray fur bristled with a sharp intake of air and a rapid thumping of her foot, paws clenching into fists to unfurl with a slow exhale. “The housefox of the Hopps Manor back in Forestdwell,” Judy articulated, “What was  _ their  _ name?”

His jaw jutted out and wrinkly brow quirked. “Why’s  _ that _ so important?”

“Just…  _ please _ ?” she beseeched.

Pop-Pop stared through the thick lenses on his face, and then sighed in acquiescence to recline in recollection, fingers drumming on the arms of his chair, “I can’t very well deny  _ you _ anything, now can I; as bad as your mother, sometimes,” he said not unkindly, “They went by ‘Fox’, so far as anyone knew, that’s just how it was,” he casually said with a canting nod, “but Laverne… Lovey said it was polite and proper to call them by their name, ‘Savage’.”

“‘Savage’,” Judy repeated in triumphant relief, allowing for a discreet pump of her fist.

“It’s kind of funny, in an ironic way. They were treated right, though, Lovey saw to that, even paid them a wage from her own purse, which, to be fair, was duly earned by the most  _ beautiful _ gardens in the kingdom. And she could afford it, too, what with her performances selling out each time, despite the seats she practically gave away to the less fortunate,” Pop-Pop wistfully continued with mounting regret, “No one cared for shifties quite like her, even though it brought  _ nothing _ but bad luck in the end…”

“That’s offensive, Grandpa,” Judy corrected flatly, regaining her bearings on the conversation, “The  _ accepted  _ term is ‘small predators’.”

He deflated some in a huff, looking wearier than when he stirred awake, “Kids these days…  _ that _ was the ‘accepted’ term back then, I’ll have you know,” Pop-Pop muttered under his breath.

She sighed again and rolled her eyes, “Well, that was a few generations ago, and  _ now  _ it’s offensive.”

Pop-Pop half-shrugged in grunting apathy.

“Goodnight, Grandpa,” Judy resolved as politely as she could, and stood up to straighten her sleeping shirt, “Thank you for your time.”

“Goodnight, Trudy,” he drowsily responded, paused, and then corrected himself, “Judy, I mean.” Pop-Pop set down his glasses to flick off the reading lamp, sinking into his chair with his ears draped about him.

Bathed in a lunar aura once more, Judy furrowed her brow at the settling senior citizen and then knelt to prop up his legs onto the ottoman, which let him recline further still in a drawn-out muttering of gratitude. Standing again, she watched and wrestled with a curiosity that she hardly realized she even _had_ , but maybe in that dead of night, she could give it form, if only for a moment, “Grandpa? Why don’t you call _me_ ‘Lovey’?” Judy was frequently described as a younger version of Bonnie, save a single, physical difference; she was not the only Hopps daughter to have either the same color fur or even eyes as the mother, but Judy was one of the few with _both_.

The silence remained otherwise unbroken until recognition was grunted by Pop-Pop, and were it not for the suddenly erect if wavering ears listening raptly, he might as well been asleep. “Because you don’t sound like her…”

Violet eyes stared on before casting down. Judy was also frequently told that she could have been a singer to rival Gazelle… if only she hadn’t chosen the path of the protector. With her verdict and sentence delivered, Judy set to leave.

“And those dark ear tips of yours,” Pop-Pop continued without missing a beat, causing said ear tips to spring up and garner her full attention.

Half the Hopps family had dark ear tips, an aesthetic that jumped generations with little more than a passing acknowledgment that they existed. Even so, it was another clue to an age long since past, and Judy figured she could probably get one more question out of Grandpa Otto before he slipped into slumber, if the wilting ears were any indication, so it had to count. “Whom  _ do  _ I sound like?”

A fist raised as his mouth opened wide, Pop-Pop stiffening to cover a yawn before sinking into the folds of his robe, “The…  _ Savage  _ vixen…” he mumbled and then snored with gradually increasing noise.

The room spun and yet was still, as though in a freefall. Judy’s head swam, swaying where she stood and only managing to shamble outside her grandfather’s study to lean on the closed door. Grandpa Otto’s “poppycock” conflicted with enough historical texts to qualify it for such categorization, especially by her parents’ reckoning. But Judy believed in her heart-of-hearts that if she had  _ all _ the information, even the outright dismissed, she could discern the facts leading to the  _ truth _ … no matter how much it hurt.

“ _ The _ savage vixen…” Judy repeated in susurrant shock, having traded one tremendous burden for another and reeling because. It -- or perhaps, in fact,  _ she _ \-- was  _ the _ historical figure some scholars point to as the defining animosity between modern rabbits and foxes; an enmity left unnamed for decades. To deny Pop-Pop’s claim because it was upsetting would betray her own integrity and objectivity… but to accept it meant that she reminded her own flesh-and-blood of the one “savage” fox at the end of Lovey’s story…

Ever since returning to the real world, Judy knew her memories of The Burrow were slipping away; imaginary though they were, they  _ felt _ real enough. The cold, echoing stone floor of a storage room. The warm, powerful embrace of a friend she never knew she had. The heat of a bonfire and its perplexing, savory smell of barbecued fish. The malicious sting of a cane on her back. Everything that happened there came from  _ somewhere _ , even if it was only observed or read about, and what boggled her most was one story of Pop-Pop’s that Judy’s parents didn’t particularly like; the story of a gray-furred, purple-eyed vixen, a “bloodwitch” that was “way too scary”, or in Judy’s case, “a bad influence”. So, she resolved to ask her grandfather about his time in the kingdom of Forestdwell almost as soon as she woke up from her drug-induced state. After learning about the so-called “Scarlet Hook” in Graham’s private collection of artifacts in Knotash, she was emboldened to find out more, to find out if the gardener of the Hopps Manor of antiquity was  _ the _ or at least  _ a _ “Piberius Savage”, like in her dreamworld built upon a lifetime of binging historical data and exhaustive memory exercises…

Lightning surged through Judy’s body as she sprung off the study door, galvanized by the revelation she failed to notice amidst her grandfather’s backward thinking. “The  _ Savage _ vixen… ‘ _ their _ name’…  _ I _ meant it to be gender-neutral, but maybe  _ he _ meant it as plural…” she hypothesized and then clapped her mouth to further diminish the volume in her already hushed voice, “What if Lovey didn’t have  _ a _ housefox, but  _ two _ … would they have been siblings or… or  _ mates _ ?” Judy directed a curious ear over her shoulder to catch the elderly snores muffled through by door, determining that  _ that _ well of information was already tapped… for the time being, at least. Instead, she snuck back upstairs to the awaiting sleeping arrangements, snuggling securely beneath the covers.

It worked. Her mind put the abyssal, irresolvable dread of Graham’s wellbeing on the backburner to make room for all  _ new  _ queries to mull over.  _ Could Lovey really have been acquainted with the very fox that killed her…? Was Trudy Savage gifted to her as a housefox, and if so, why…? Pop-Pop said ‘curses… were as real as plague and disease in those days’, so would she have been perceived as ‘cursed’ because she had two housefoxes? How do I approach my best friends with the knowledge that my family might have owned their family a hundred years ago…? Were foxes really decapitated and their heads hung on walls to ward off curses…?  _ Judy trembled and gripped Bo’s side, _ Every stone turned reveals another can of worms, I guess…  _ she lamented,  _ ‘Dark histories’ indeed, huh Nick…? _

The gray rabbit was pulled closer by the sleepy arm draped around her, and when her ear lay across his chest, the steady beat a heart therein echoed along its dark-tipped length. The roil of concerns scattered a bit more after each beat until nothing remained, except on the peripheral of Judy’s mind where her consciousness faded more and more from. A smile crept onto her cheeks as she rested upon her rock, anticipating the new day’s promise and challenges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part where "Nick was thrown from a truck" refers back to Trustworthy, chapter 22, wherein he and the gang are riding along in Mrs. Clarabelle Wincow's pick-up outside of Preds' Corner, and is thus slingshot after a particularly nasty bump and turn in the road (invoking quite a scare for all involved). Unbeknownst to the bunnies, Nick is visited by yet another hallucination but was pretty sure he didn't have a concussion.
> 
> Judy's anecdote concerning the S/CARE pseudo-introduces a character I've not yet given any screen time to and technically not named in-story until nearly halfway through Helpful. So, allow me to officially present Precinct 1's first wallaby officer: Maurice Fitzpouchrick. He's a late-twenties rookie cop born on Outback Island in mid-Winter, enjoys playing softball, model rockets, and just about anything with pistachios or caramel (Maurice finally found a decent pistachio-caramel swirl ice cream at his local Graze-'n'-Greens and couldn't be happier). He's the middle child of three, hates millipedes, awkwardly avoids politics like the plague, and is learning to play the trumpet (to emulate jazz legend, Rooie Armstrong, and in hopes of attracting a mate). Maurice wanted to be a police officer ever since he and his friends snuck over to the Lions Gate docks (disregarding repeated parental warnings) wherein they got lost and were found by the local Precinct Captain, Barbara Quiskers (lioness), who then took it upon herself to drive them back to Outback Island but not directly to their front door so that they could get back on their own. Captain Quisker's mercy that day helped Maurice understand its balance with justice.
> 
> "BU" references Bunnyburrow University which is actually a community college but since it operates as a branch of Zootopia University for its agricultural studies, the locals have deemed it as such. The event in question is referenced back in Trustworthy when Nick and Bo are grabbing a quick drink at Phil's over in Preds' Corner. Amusingly, this was the same chapter that Grav was introduced.
> 
> Clea's fur color differed from when she was introduced near the end of Trustworthy than when she was depicted years earlier in a photograph seen at the end of Brave.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a plethora of offensive or demeaning words with which one might refer to a member of any species-groupings (and according to some scholars, grammatically offensive because they are frequently adjectives or verbs repurposed as nouns). Some of the most commonly known designations are "chompers" for predators as a whole which is then divided into two subgroups of "savages" for larger predators and "shifties" for smaller predators (the former spiking in infamy after the Pred-Scare; it was derived from the large predators' habit of baring one's fangs in playing, posturing, and agitation). Likewise, the commonly known words of "oafs" and "cuties" respectively refered to large prey (pachyderms, moose, etc.) and very small prey (mice, squirrels, rabbits, etc.).
> 
> An archaic term for small prey was "ingratiates" (and its ironic diminutive, "ingrates") due to the observation that they would ingratiate their selves and services to larger mammals (usually, if not exclusively, other prey). Some noted examples are the deer and the rabbits and hares of Deerbrooke, the horses and rabbits of Bunnyburrow, and most curious, the hares and bears of the Honey Hills. The latter example has long been a topic of conversation amongst scholars in that, despite their respective family species, bears are sometimes referred to as "oafs" and hares as "shifties".
> 
> [Also, I apologize for the errant spacing around the italicized words, I really don't know what to do about that...]

Dawn broke; a thousand bunnies stirred within the Hopps farmhouse to begin the rolling shifts of washing up for breakfast, breakfast itself, and then the cleanup  _ of  _ breakfast, all in preparation for the day’s assignments and allotments of chores and privileges, respectively. Per custom, farm-rabbits bathed and/or showered at night so that the sullied water could be recycled and purified for crops, and also to squeeze every drop of sunlight out of a day as soon as they awoke. Mornings, usually as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon, allowed for the washing of paws, faces, ears, and other such sensitive areas as necessary, and as efficiently as possible (also assuming that, as bunnies are apt to do, shoot the breeze). Timing and synchronicity were  _ crucial  _ to such finely-oiled machinery, and while not as exact as their city-bunny counterparts, the Hoppses were no deviants when it came to the familial routine.

Washing and eating areas were set aside (including a ration of water, soap/scent-freshener, porridge, peanut butter on whole-wheat toast, sugar, and coffee) as an exception for Burrow Watch members/relatives bunking with the Hoppses during the TBR; Bo Briar, for example. They received duties from the Watch leader, Mr. Payton Barley, not the Hopps patriarch (barring extraneous circumstances), and so were unbeholden to the same schedule as the rest of the household. However, Bo was still up with the sun and ready to take on the day; as was Judy.

Most if not all of the bedrooms were covered wall-to-wall with sleeping visitors, so when Judy and Bo got in as late as they did the night prior they received two bedrolls, sheets, pillows, and a blanket to hunker down for the night in a remote room of the house (since Judy’s usual room was occupied by those that could be bothered to show up in a timely manner). Per the norm, Bo was bashful seeing Judy first thing in the morning, and he never failed to smile in such a way to express the sentiment, likewise, Judy never failed to find it endearing, considering how infrequently the opportunity presented itself. Even so, they kissed good morning and rolled up the sleeping arrangements before utilizing different washing areas, he with the Watch and she with her female or very young relations. Bo quietly beamed all the while as he gathered up a small tub, a towel, a stool and other such washing implements at the expansive bathing area.

“Briar!” somebunny called.

Bo’s spirit plateaued as he sighed his response, “Thistlemore.”

“So,” the fellow Watch member said, a rabbit boasting slate patches and a circular notch missing from an ear, but more importantly, a holier-than-thou attitude, “Mr. Barley’s deemed  _ you  _ ‘necessary’ to keep an eye on The Brambles while the Knotash bunnies are still there.”

“ _ Did _ he?” the larger, browner rabbit chimed, holding his assorted items to his stomach with one paw, while the other braced his waist, “Fancy  _ that _ .”

Thistlemore paid the smug brow and smirk with an unimpressed frown, “It’s almost as if it were  _ suggested _ to him last night, but I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

The broad shoulders shrugged in good humor, “He likely concluded of his own volition that  _ I  _ have the most experience in dealing with Zootopian foxes, seeing how well I worked with them yesterday.  _ Or _ … maybe I asked him forthrightly and politely to assign me to the… what was the name I heard,  _ ‘trickster’ _ ?”

Slate fur bristled with an audible thumping of the foot, “You just watch yourself, Briar, I was  _ there _ when those ravens condemned Nick Wilde yesterday… I about had a heart attack when I heard he made a  _ deal _ with those feathery specters… it ain’t right.”

“Nic,” Bo consoled, “I understand that the ravens called  _ you  _ out, too, but luck affects foxes differently than rabbits, you know that; plus, he also works with  _ wolves _ so of course he can deal with  _ ravens _ . And, foxes have a… a sort of  _ protection _ from curses, right?”

“Then it’s a wonder  _ you _ were assigned to him at all!” he about spat with a backhanded swat at the air. The washing area fell grimly silent save the drip of water from doused fur, for a bunny born “cursed” was no light topic of conversation and no joking matter. Nic’s glower matched Bo’s if retracting for wholly awkward reasons, ears pinning back as he noticed all other ears pointed at  _ him _ . “I’m sorry,” he said sternly, quietly, “that was uncalled for.”

Regular scrubbing and rinsing resumed, and then Bo smiled cordially to clap the slate back and incline his noggin for the traditional gesture of rabbit forgiveness: the forehead touch. “Let’s wash up, we’ve both got big days ahead of us.” Since either rabbit was already disrobed, they filled up their own smaller tubs from a spigot and sat in a circle around a drain to commence the lathering. Amidst the idle chatter around them, Bo poised a question: “Alright, what’s wrong?”

Nic took some time to respond as he scrubbed deep into the fur of his arm, “I’m just flabbergasted, is all,” he admitted, “Things are  _ diff’rent  _ out in Oklahorna City. We’ve got rabbits, mice, prairie dogs, buffalo, foxes, pumas… but I’m here in Bunnyburrow less than a week, and I see a  _ platypus _ ! She was checking out a stain-glass mobile at a vendor like it was the most normal thing in the world… I felt awful for staring-”

“That ain’t it,” Bo casually corrected, smugly grinning as he propped a large foot onto his knee to get between the toes.

The slate rabbit blinked in his stunned state, looking about at some of the other Watch members before addressing the larger rabbit again, “Ex _ cuse _ you? I think  _ I  _ would know what ‘it’ is or ain’t, Briar.”

Brown shoulders shook in a chuckle, “It’s written all over your face. Now, I know the farms in Oklahorna City makes Bunnyburrow’s look like a window box, and sure, you don’t have as many biomes out in the middle of the country as we do here in Zootopian territory, so that’s plenty of reason to be short. But I think what’s  _ really  _ diff’rent is all the  _ mingling  _ of species. You probably have your rabbit community, your buffalo community, and your puma community, but I’d wager my lucky foot that they don’t interact too much.”

“We interact  _ plenty _ -”

“Outside of anything  _ official _ ,” Bo specified, and then continued as Nic took his time to recalculate, “No shame in it; Zootopia’s one of the biggest, most diverse cities in the world that promotes open relations between species, after all, both on a macro  _ and _ micro level, but I get that it doesn’t sit well with everyone,” he grinned, and then handed his sponge over, “Would you mind getting my back? It’s too much of a reach for me…”

“I mean…” Thistlemore argued, pivoting to face Bo’s presented expanse, sponge in paw and firmly scrubbing as he conversed, “Us rabbits meet with the buffalo and the mice regularly, same with the prairie dogs.  _ I _ met with the raccoons once, and…  _ saw  _ the pumas, but not  _ too _ closely…” he then leaned in to whisper, “I’ll admit, I was a bit surprised to see that the deputy  _ here _ is a puma…”

“And the foxes?” a smirking Bo asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Nuh-uh,” he grunted, “Not one-on-one, anyway or… y’know, snout-to-snout.”

“Dealing with foxes is like keeping  _ bees _ ,” a nearby, older rabbit input, “If you didn’t put them where they are, then you leave them well enough alone, but either way, don’t you turn your ear away from them for too long.”

“And it’s best to let the hares take care of them,” another said in jest, eliciting a round of quiet laughter from the other members of the Watch.

Bo’s ears folded back, face contorting as the gears in his noggin churned, and then he felt Thistlemore ‘okay’ his back by evacuating its abundance of suds with a quick rinse. After turning inward to the other Burrow Watch members and the drain they encircled Bo slid forward into a squat and continued scrubbing, “Or better yet,  _ bears _ !” he declared.

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves…”

“No one keeps bees like bears do, though,” Bo argued.

“I think you might be missing the point of an analogy, Briar.”

“On the contrary,” the grinning brown rabbit said, “are not the Tenets  _ rife  _ with stories of Fox and Bear?”

An older member groaned speculatively, “The young buck brings up a valid point,” he admitted, “If the ‘bees’ are Fox’s many tricks, is not the wise Bear best suited against them?”

“Indeed,” agreed another, and continued to a general consensus, “It’d be better to have  _ preds _ keeping an eye on preds, and bears  _ are  _ very large.”

“ _ Indeed _ ,” Bo repeated, to which he baited, “It rarely works out  _ quite _ like we hope, though…” and received smattering agreement as he sat back on his stool.

“After all, Bear is often out _ foxed _ ,” another rabbit coined, “No point in weathering their tricks if tricked is all you’ll be.”

“And any attempts to outfox a  _ fox _ ends in the worst luck,” still another warned.

“That’s  _ true _ ,” Bo openly pondered, “So it might be better that, if an eye or ear  _ must _ be kept on a fox, it is done without the assumption that they are in any one place?”

“Transient mammals, they,” somebunny concurred, and then quoted, “‘The only thing you’ll catch more than once of a fox is sight of them’.”

“Perhaps ocelots or rhinos are better suited to watch foxes, then? One is keen of sight, and the other keen of smell, but  _ neither  _ is keen on trickery.”

A brown chin was rubbed in thought, “It might need to be someone  _ clever  _ enough to go toe-to-toe them.”

“ _ Briar _ ,” he was rebuked, “foxes are  _ not _ outfoxed, and misfortune stalks all who try.”

He then glanced with a grin to the slate rabbit sitting adjacent, “But don’t the interchangeable Hare and Rabbit of the Tenets trick Bear just as often as Fox?” and received another smattering of agreement, if laced with disapproval.

“ _ Ergo _ ,” Thistlemore inferred, “there is no better foil to foxes than rabbits?” A momentary discussion bubbled up around the circle of lathered Watch members.

Bo hummed thoughtfully, “That might very well be the case, but do you mean that rabbits are better served by directly associating with foxes?” he asked, and to the pinned-back ears, promptly continued, “After all, that  _ is _ how bunnies create bonds -- which we do very well, in fact -- and there’s  _ no _ stronger bond created than the trust of a fox; which is right difficult to earn, ain’t that right, Thistlemore?”

“I… that is, well… yes?”

“Speaking  _ of _ , I’ve got my assignment to get to,” Bo said in a cordial smile, reaching over to clap the slate back as he stood and gathered up his effects, leaving the conversation that ensued in the capable paws of the rabbit from Oklahorna City.

* * *

After a waking kiss shared with Bo, Judy swept off towards the washing area with which she was most familiar, greeting and greeted by extended and immediate family members alike. It was amongst her nieces, aunts, female cousins and toddling relatives that Judy basked in the sweet bedlam of morning wash, and so picked up on the rumor mill’s “heat”, as caused by Monday’s hubbub. No one really had the straight story on the subject, much to Judy’s overwhelming relief (but chagrin that others seemed to walk on eggshells around her), so braided as it was with hearsay, speculation, exaggeration, and outright misinformation; whether Tad Wooler peeped on predator families, sacrificed small snakes and birds to some unholy devil, or ran a black-market for ritzy tableware was anyone’s guess.

Since her own scrubbing was quick (something she had to concede was that Knotash baths were unparalleled, in her experience, and would likely last her the week) Judy opted to aid in the surmounting duty of washing the youngest bunnies, those that could not or would not tend to themselves. Those visiting from out of town were caught up on why the news was as important as it was, and she was glad that her own escapades were overshadowed by some her siblings’ and cousins’: a raspberry-pineapple jam winning first place, assembling a pyramid of bunnies that was taller than the house, wrestling a rattlesnake into submission, and someone catching fire (they lived, and weren’t too horribly burnt). What was perhaps her favorite nugget of gossip was hearing about the tractor-pull between Bo and Gideon (of which she only got a brief retelling of).

“You’d’ve been proud of them both, had you seen them,” Monica said, an older sister of Judy’s with gray splotches who was herself more like an aunt in how she talked and acted, “I remember full well how that Grey fox could hardly be seen without two shirts, a sweater, and a jacket, even if it was a hundred degrees out. But there he was, facing up to your Bo in nothing but a pair of jeans and a sly grin. Davey, he was with me at the time, barely believed that was the same Gideon Grey, and I can’t say I blame him,” she then chuckled while practicing great care to clean the baby bunny in her lap.

“I remember how there were some who speculated as to what his back actually  _ was _ ,” Judy snickered, “Fish scales, snakeskin, feathers of all types,  _ wings _ . What  _ was _ under all those shirts, anyway?” she wryly asked, tickling at the feet of the toddler  _ she _ was washing.

“ _ Oh _ , just fur,” Monica said offhandedly.

“Stripes, spots? Maybe quills, I recall hearing…”

“Red fur, like any other fox,” came a flat reply, and then a smirking shake of the head and roll of the eyes, “ _ So _ , how was Knotash? You’re so lucky to visit, free of charge. I’ve priced the houses, and I’ll tell you one thing, there’s no way I’m getting there in  _ this  _ lifetime,” and punctuated her sentiment with a series of disapproving grunts, “But I guess if bunnies there drink-and-drive, it’s probably safer out here in the country anyway.”

“ _ Monica _ ,” Judy admonished and then said plainly, “that’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke, Judy,” she replied, and gingerly pat the baby bunny dry, “I don’t think I could forgive him if he crashed with one of my sisters in the car. And  _ you _ should’ve taken his keys away; I figured a cop would know better,” the older rabbit huffed and then shook her head, “That Grav’s pushed his luck, and that Uncle Magnus is no better, letting his son run rampant like that. Any kit of  _ mine _ wouldn’t be allowed at a  _ spinning _ wheel if cider touched his lips.”

“Monica,  _ really _ ,” Judy repeated, “I’m just glad he made it through the night.”

“Well… that’s true. And he did give you that  _ gorgeous _ dress, so I suppose he’s not all bad,” she admitted, “Everyone makes mistakes, and hopefully this is one he’ll learn from.” She glanced over with a slump of her shoulders, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up like that. I don’t know what happened over there, and shouldn’t rush to judgment… I’m just glad  _ you’re _ okay, is all.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Judy forgave, promptly sitting up to touch her forehead to Monica’s, and went on to explain her time there as nonspecifically as she could, “Knotash is  _ beautiful _ , though, even if I only saw the Hopps Manor… But I’m happy to be back in Bunnyburrow, it’s much more…  _ open _ .” She’d heard about Graham’s status through the grapevine of long-eared gossipers inside the Hopps farmhouse (someone happened to know a surgeon in Knotash), so her heart was eased from  _ that _ burden, at least. After giving the toddler off to a niece, Judy picked up the next young rabbit to begin the process anew, but even when all the youngest rabbits were cleaned and ready for breakfast, Judy’s gleefully shouldered responsibilities were not yet over, not when there were still plenty of little mouths to feed and diapers to check.

It was early-to-mid morning when the gray-furred, purple-eyed, dark-ear-tipped rabbit finally had a moment to herself, both exhausted and satisfied after acclimating back to life on the farm. Since Judy had already gone past her presumed allotment of clothing to visit for the weekend, she had to borrow from her sisters and didn’t get a say in  _ exactly  _ what she wore, as per the custom. As it was, Judy begrudged the sleeveless, knee-length summer dress whose color above the waist and the lining of the white skirt complemented both her fur and eyes (a wardrobe choice apparently “inspired” by the gown she wore the night prior).

Judy sat on the arm of a recliner (which was already occupied by one of her resident uncles who, aside from a succinct greeting, did not seem to mind or notice her being there) to pull out the sleek, silvery phone that went neglected almost all of the day before. It took quite some time to filter through the cornucopia of unread text messages and voicemail (some from Benjamin Clawhauser, asking where Nick was; some more from Bo, asking where  _ she _ was, and  _ plenty _ more from her parents asking the same), but it was the most recent from Nick that brightened her heart:

“Why am I awake.”

“There’s no work today and no threats on my life, so I’m going back to sleep.”

“Gid made oatmeal for breakfast…”

“OMG this oatmeal is amazing!”

“Forget night howler, I need rehab for oatmeal addiction.”

“Gid packed us crepes for lunch. He just pulled them out of the fridge. Can he just make crepes appear? Is that legal?”

“And by ‘us’, I mean me and Ess. You didn’t get one.”

“If Ess says you did get one and I ate it, don’t believe her, she’s lying.”

“Unless it’s about me, then she’s being modest.”

“I already ate my crepe. It was delicious.”

“I may have eaten her crepe, too. Also delicious.”

“Gid made us sandwiches for lunch since the crepes mysteriously disappeared. You didn’t get one, though.”

“Don’t believe Ess, she’s lying.”

After a jolly round of laughter, Judy checked what Esther had to say on Nick’s stay in the Grey homestead… and then decided to peruse  _ those _ messages later… In the interim, her ears rose at Bo’s stiff approach, and so she hopped down to join him.

“Bobo, sweetie,” she giggled, noting his restricted breathing, “What happened to the shirts that fit you yesterday?”

“Grabbed up by laundry crew,” he grunted, trying not to lower or raise his arms too much, lest his respiratory process be further hindered, or the seams follow through on their threats to bust open, “My fault; shouldn’t have left them out. You look beautiful, by the way.”

Judy accepted the compliment graciously with a smiling cant of her head, before addressing the issue at hand, “How… did you even _close_ this shirt?”

“Persistence. It was the biggest one I could find.”

“Let’s find you a poncho or something,” Judy suggested, biting back another giggle.

“That’d be swell,” Bo grunted again, smiling weakly, “Getting lightheaded.”

“Let’s loosen this up a bit, at least,” she opted, and noticed the buttons of the pitifully straining shirt, “ _ Carefully _ ,” she clarified and began with the top-most fastener. She managed to ease the taut fabric well enough, until his cell phone notified him of something important and he suddenly gasped, sending the button in the immediate center of his chest to burst from its moorings and fly across the room to ricochet off a shelf. Those nearby sprung their ears at the momentary noise and even less turned in address before returning to their own activities.

“ _ Sorry _ ,” he wheezed to Judy, who dismissed the need for an apology with a congenial swat of her paw (and the nearby uncle went back to the newspaper article on his tablet). After reaching into his pocket for the offending mobile device, Bo studied the screen with an increasingly concerned frown, and then flicked his thumb to sound the unlocking chime. “Ahh,  _ shoot _ ,” deflated Bo, “Barley needs me in Preds’ Corner  _ ASAP _ ,” he reported, and as if on cue, the back seam of his shirt split open as his shoulders slumped, “I’m not going to get away with a slap on the wrists this time, either.”

“Don’t worry,” Judy assured, “there are a thousand bunnies in this house,  _ someone _ has to have something that will fit you.”

“Check with Fat Frank, he’s got plenty of plus-sizes,” the nearby uncle offhandedly said, and then glanced up the stairs filled with a stream of transient rabbits in both directions, “Green suitcase with leaves stenciled on. Can’t miss it.”

“Oh, thanks Uncle Ned!” a grateful Judy replied and leaned in to kiss his scruffy, orange cheek, during which Bo ruefully tugged the shirt’s remains from his torso before getting grabbed by the wrist, “C’mon, this won’t take long.”

No sooner had they arrived at the foot of the stairs than were they intercepted by a tall rabbit that just braved the steps, “I wouldn’t go up there,” she chuckled, and handed over a sky-blue button-up, “For the Burrow Watch, right? This should suffice.”

“Oh, thanks Aunt Tabitha!” a grateful Judy replied and leaned up to kiss her sleek, burgundy cheek, during which Bo’s gratitude was vocalized before he was ushered out and onto the porch by the gray bunny.

“Lucky, lucky,” he grinned as he unfolded the shirt before shrugging it on and buttoning it up, “A bit snug, but manageable,” Bo observed, rolling the sleeves up near his elbows and tucking the lower excess into his utility-belt-buckled waistband.

“Yes, lucky,” Judy softly agreed, reaching up to fix his collar, a showing tag, and pull a sprig of lint from the shoulder. “Alright, to the van,” she instructed, already en route to said vehicle that Bo hardly had time to notice her advance, “You got the key, right?”

“Right, of course,” he confirmed and pulled it from his pocket so that it might glint in the sunlight. After some succinct pleasantries of departure with passerby bunnies, they both hopped through the newly unlocked doors, but before he had a chance to turn said key he was subjected to a thorough pat-down from the bunny-cop. His ears burned brightly amidst his giggling, looking bashfully at Judy, “N-not that I’m  _ complaining _ , but…?”

She leaned in, paw against his left pectoral, and then pulled something from the shirt pocket with a triumphant, “ _ Hah! _ ” and planted herself back onto the seat to tilt her palm in examination. A gasp caught in Judy’s throat as she stared incredulously at the trinket, managing a full glimpse with the light pouring in from the windshield. She weighed it, flipped it between her paws a few times, put it up to her ear, and even bit it,  _ It’s not a bug at all, just a bauble…? _ she realized with a pout of relieved disappointment,  _ But still, this symbol… _

Bo’s steadying huffs were all that filled the silence as he corrected his shirt, taking his turn to lean in and observe the glinting, button-sized sigil. “Wow,” Bo snickered, earning Judy’s attention, “Fat Frank must be a  _ huge _ history nerd,” he stated and picked up the offered item to better look at it, but then sighed in self-berating amusement, “Said the… huge history nerd that actually knows what this is.”

She sat upright and smiled brighter than her eyes, paws clapping under her nose, “You know what  _ that  _ is?”

“ _ This _ is a ‘Fourth-Leaf Cloven’, one of many ‘anti-luck’ charms signifying corruption of good fortune,” he said academically, and lay it in his palm as though it were a precious gem, “among which is the inverted horse’s hoofprint (often depicted with a stone between the two endpoints), the upside-down number ‘7’ (or ‘Crossed-L’), and a rabbit’s foot with a bloody stump at the ankle. Rebellious  _ grazers _ , not bunnies, tend to favor this particular symbol since it resembles their  _ own _ cloven hooves.” He returned it before revving the engine, to then back out of the service road, “That right there is some  _ obscure _ occult history, Juju, really ‘profound’ and ‘edgy’ stuff,” he chuckled, “Didn’t figure Fat Frank the type.”

Judy gazed at the  _ faux _ four-leaf clover colored the green of rusted copper, and while the item itself was whole, one of its leaves bore a depiction of having been neatly cleaved down the center, “I don’t think this is Fat Frank’s…” she speculated, and flipped the bauble into the air like a coin to catch it, “It’s a message.”

Bo’s ears were up. “Magnus?” he asked, no doubt remembering the phone call from the night prior.

“Or Graham,” she quietly considered. “Coincidences,” Judy stated after some contemplation, sitting upright with a declarative finger, “You bathed in the Watch area, which  _ wouldn’t _ have had a laundry crew come by, and they didn’t take your  _ pants _ along with your shirt. That stood out to me like a sore thumb. The next part; Aunt Tabitha  _ just so happened _ to have a shirt big enough to fit you not seconds after  _ we _ determined that you needed one.”

“ _ Alright _ ,” he conceded, “but… maybe she saw me looking for one earlier, and decided to help me out?”

“Maybe,” Judy considered, “It’s also possible that she doesn’t know she’s a messenger. If we can figure out the message, we might figure out who  _ sent _ it. Now, I’m not as up on my ‘obscure occult history’, it doesn’t usually surface in everyday police work, but I reckon these ‘anti-luck’ charms are nasty business.”

“You reckon correctly.”

“Both Aunt Tabitha and Fat Frank are from a  _ very _ traditional side of the family, so I can’t imagine either of them holding onto such a thing. Come to think of it, I saw a bumper sticker a while back that spelled out ‘LUCKY’ using these, with the clover as the ‘Y’,” she recalled, “Something of an ‘anti-luck’ counter-culture, I guess.”

Bo scoffed, “Which I would like to differentiate from those of us that make our  _ own _ luck, as opposed to…  _ opposing _ it.”

Judy smirked and pat his arm, “Don’t worry, Bobo, I’m right there with you. Anyway, what else can you tell me about the ‘Fourth-Leaf Cloven’, like, where did it come from?”

“Oh, it’s one of those nebulous symbols that have always been around,” he explained, “ _ In fact _ , it’s one of the  _ oldest _ in recorded history, dating as far back as the reign of King Richard Lionheart. Of course, the bloody rabbit foot predates it, according to legend.” Bo turned an ear to address the doubtful hum, “Something wrong?”

“No, no…”

“But?”

“It’s just… I was hoping you might’ve learned something from  _ before _ King Richard.”

“Sad to say, you’re not going to find a lot older than five centuries… at least that isn’t  _ widely  _ contested oral traditions. Scholars and historians have managed to piece together mammalian history  _ that _ far with any kind of certainty, but anything beyond is pretty fuzzy.”

“A sad state of the world…” Judy concurred, fully aware of the hard boundary of concrete evidence corroborating the past.

“Now,” Bo continued, “while the ‘Crossed-L’ or ‘Upside Down Hoof’ were  _ the _ go-to signifiers for it -- depending on the region -- the Fourth-Leaf Cloven was also designated by the reigning powers of the time as a  _ mark _ for those ‘cursed by silver tongues’, which was a fancy way of saying that they were ‘lead astray’. There  _ is  _ evidence that it was a symbol of solidarity, but it gets a little ‘chicken or egg’ at that point as to whether it was used first for rebellion or heresy.”

Judy crossed both arms and legs, idly twiddling the coin along her knuckles as her leg bounced with agitation. She grumbled a bit louder than she intended, “Questions, questions, and more questions… Graham wore a polo shirt yesterday with a four-leaf clover on the breast, but he drew a line through one of the leaves as if to cleave it. I  _ really  _ wanted to ask him about it but I didn’t get a chance to…”

Short, brown ears sprung again, “So… if you don’t mind my asking,  _ why _ were you curious about it…?”

“Because I’m pretty sure he’s got the very  _ first _ ‘Fourth-Leaf Cloven’ in the artifact room of the Hopps Manor library,” she said plainly enough, “If only I could’ve asked him whether he adopted it as  _ his _ or not…” She then turned to Bo as he opened the window to fan air into his face, “Feeling faint? Need me to drive?” she teased.

“No, I’m fine, I just… y’know, the  _ first _ Fourth-Leaf Cloven… I didn’t think there  _ was _ a ‘first’. I doubt he even realizes what he  _ has _ . What was it like?” he then asked, the excitement in his voice audibly restrained.

Though unable to stop herself from smiling, Judy studied the bauble in her paw once more, “Actually… I think he  _ does _ . Magnus already sent his message last night, and sending  _ another _ one so ‘nebulous’ or clandestine as  _ this _ wouldn’t accomplish anything, not if he can contact me directly. Graham’s already shown an affinity for obscure symbology, his use of the ‘ka-poof!’ doodle shows that, according to Nick, Magnus  _ also _ recognized but didn’t approve of. No, I think this bauble was slipped into that shirt and handed off to Aunt Tabitha to deliver a message, which…” she pondered, and sharply breathed in, “ _ Ooh…  _ I think I just felt that thing Nick gets with a crazy idea,” she giggled.

Bo moaned, and reached into his collar to pat the fur on his nape down, “Whoa,  _ weird… _ ”

Judy’s face brightened, “Graham; he’s fighting back,” she explained with a sly lilt of her voice, and curled her fist around the bauble, “We figured that he had ears all over the burrow, specifically in the Hopps house,” she continued while pointing over her shoulder, “Remember how Uncle Magnus called not five minutes after we got in last night? It was  _ crucial _ that he delivered his ultimatum before I turned him in, and the best way to do that is strike first, strike hard, and in front of all the relatives, with many of whom I’m  _ sure _ he still has plenty of pull. He was using Graham’s ‘ears’ to cut me off at the pass, but I’d bet my cottontail that Magnus doesn’t know  _ those  _ bunnies as well as he thinks he does, and you can take it to the bank that there’s  _ no _ love lost between him and his son.”

“Magnus must still think that Graham’s ears are  _ his _ ears,” Bo realized.

Judy tapped her nose, “A  _ terminal _ error and I think I know what the message is. You said  _ this _ symbolized both a heretical mark for untoward influence (i.e., foxes, I’m sure) and solidarity, right? Graham must have assumed  _ I _ would know that because of all the historical trivia I rattled off yesterday (a lot of which I got from  _ you _ , by the way, so thank you). Simply enough, it’s a  _ rallying point _ , because the era of its use can easily be a parallel to how things are run at Hopps Manor,” she then gravely concluded. “Don’t get me wrong, Bobo, it’s  _ beautiful _ over there, absolutely breathtaking… but what’s lying just beneath the surface… I’ve never seen a rabbit so scared in my life when he realized that he might soon be a victim to it… It feels like we saved each other from that place.”

The van drove on for two sober beats before Judy cleared her throat and the air, “Anyway! The first one of these,” Judy announced as she presented the bauble, “was made from a King Richard farthing about five-hundred years ago, as best I can figure from a TV special I saw on a history of world currency,” she began, recalling the  _ n _ th time she was in the same room when one of her siblings was watching something, “In answer to your ‘chicken/egg’ question, I think it  _ started  _ as a symbol of rebellion-”

“How so?” he almost demanded, perhaps a bit too eager to find out.

“For starters,” Judy calmly responded with a withering glance, to which Bo did indeed wither and went back to driving, “the angle of the cut on the leaf looked  _ unintentional _ .”

Bo’s fingers drummed the steering wheel, “A four-leaf clover made from a farthing… whoever did that must have been high-up in King Richard’s court, since defacing money was as much a crime  _ then  _ as it is  _ now _ , so maybe a prince, the captain of the guard, or the royal treasurer might’ve commissioned it…”

“The plaque of its display said it was found pinned on a slain bunny,” to which Bo nearly choked on his surprise, “So, I reasoned that it was a gift since it no doubt was an item of great sentimental value. Do you think that’s plausible?”

The brown bunny breathed in a long cycle to regain his composure (what wasn’t reserved for controlling the van), “It’s…  _ possible _ ? It would have been an  _ exceptionally _ important bunny to be gifted something like that, but the highest that a bunny ever got in a larger mammal’s court was a royal messenger, so they wouldn’t have a  _ customized  _ sigil. Although… the title of ‘Felix’  _ was _ first bestowed in the latter part of King Richard’s reign, but honestly, it would’ve had less worth than that defaced farthing… It wasn’t until Bunnyburrow was founded one-hundred-and-thirty-one years ago that a ‘Felix’ actually had weight behind them, as you know.”

“And of course, there’s that whole ‘The first Felix was a Hopps’ thing I’ve heard about,” scoffed Judy with a roll of her purple eyes.

“You mean that thing  _ every _ rabbit family claims, Briars included?” Bo mocked and then added in a lower, normal tone, “The Briars that aren’t hares, anyway.” He shrugged, “Anyway, I’m afraid I’m just a nerd that reads too much… If I could’ve held onto the Lapis Scholarship with a history degree I would’ve, but if you want I can direct you to Zootopia’s leading authority?”

“Oh? And on  _ whom  _ does such a prestigious title rest?” she wondered aloud.

“He has his tenure at  Zootopia University , and while his expertise is in  _ dance _ history he’s still knowledgeable in  _ numerous _ fields pertaining to cultural zoology and social sciences, not just dance,” the brown rabbit cheerily said, “Professor Kazar-”

“ _ Pass _ .”

“Umm…”

“Flaming specist if ever there was one,” Judy muttered under her breath, tumbling the bauble along her knuckles again while glancing out the window.

“I…”

She glanced back and shared in the awkwardness a moment. “Do you…  _ know _ what he did?”

Brown mitts kneaded the steering wheel. “I’ve only…  _ read  _ about his…  _ scholastic  _ background…”

“Oh…” Judy considered, “Well… did you know he was also one of the top  _ choreographers _ in the city?”

“I  _ did _ know  _ that _ , yes,” he hastily rattled off, “He actually taught Gazelle to dance, and was her first choreographer until he retired-”

“Was  _ fired _ ,” the gray rabbit swiftly, patiently cut in.

“Maybe it was a-”

“By Gazelle herself for his  _ flagrant  _ harassment of her tiger dancers.” By Bo’s avoidant eyes and minuscule writhing, Judy continued, “It’s not  _ widely _ known, I’ll admit, considering it happened  _ super _ early in her career and I think Gazelle kept it quiet to protect her tigers, but Kazar was quite heinous towards them, even sabotaged them so as not to outshine  _ his _ troupe of wildebeest dancers. When she found out about his duplicity, well… ‘Hath no fury’, and all that. There are…  _ other _ examples, but I don’t want to get into  _ those _ .”

“Wow…”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “I don’t deny that he has plenty to say on something like  _ this _ ,” Judy pointed out, holding up the bauble, “But… I doubt I would want to hear it.” Several beats passed again in the unbroken silence of the van, save the engine’s hum and the kicking-up of pebbles on the undercarriage. Judy wondered aloud again, “I would, however, favor an  _ unbiased  _ viewpoint on such an interesting trinket, even if it is just from a…  _ huge _ , history nerd.”

“Even if… even if it’s only uncorroborated hearsay…?”

“You  _ did _ imply that this was ‘pretty deep in the reeds’,” she pointed out, “Oral history is still history, after all.”

“True…” he conceded, and hummed in thought, “I don’t know how much you can get from it, but there  _ was _ something I heard about back in Hares’ Bluff. Max -- do you remember Max?”

“Only that he was your guardian as a teenager, and urged you to not give up despite your condition, so  _ yes _ , I remember Max Hareton, if having never met him,” Judy said wryly.

Bo chuckled, “Max isn’t the forgettable type. He was  _ such _ a character, taught me how to run, jump, throw and  _ take _ a punch, and bless his heart, could  _ not _ keep a story straight to save his life. I learned a lot of what  _ not _ to do from him, too,” he snickered, “So, one thing he mentioned repeatedly, which I never found any other evidence to back until something  _ you _ said a few minutes ago, was the ‘ _ Scarlet _ Clover’; I think he meant it as another name for the ‘Fourth-Leaf Cloven’.”

Judy blinked, and then mulled, “‘Pinned on the tunic of a slain bunny’… as if struck by a weapon, not a tool. The ‘scarlet’  _ could  _ mean the blood spilled. I’m guessing you never heard anyone  _ else _ call it that, though.”

“Not as such. Outside of Hares’ Bluff, at least.”

“How about… ‘ _ crimson _ clover’? Literarily speaking, it’s the more common metaphor for blood.”

“Nuh-uh,” the boy bunny denied, “Never heard of a ‘crimson clover’, at least not in  _ that _ context, only ‘scarlet’.”

“And yet  _ this _ Fourth-Leaf Cloven is  _ green _ , no red in it at all, scarlet or otherwise.”

“Maybe sometime after the TBR, we can take a trip up to see Max and get some more information out of him?” Bo posited hopefully, “I’ve already told him about you, of course.”

“Oh… then how come I’ve never spoken with him before?” she asked.

“Be _ cause _ …” he shrugged, “You always get that… really awkward grimace on your face when you hear his voice on the phone.”

“ _ That  _ was Max, I see…”

“I  _ would  _ say he’s ‘mellowed’ since my teenage years but… he hasn’t. He means well, and is one the best apiarists in Honeyhills… although it’s a tossup between him and his bees as to who’s the more easily agitated…”

Judy flicked the bauble once more into the air before slipping it into the pocket of her dress, “Let’s put a pin it. It’s not like there’s any shortage of mysteries and we’ve got enough on our plate as is,” she snarked, pulling her phone from another dress-pocket when the mile marker for Preds’ Corner popped up. “I’ll let Esther know we’re on our way.”

“So, uhh…” Bo began sheepishly, “What  _ other _ kind of artifacts did you see in Knotash?”

The gray bunny glimpsed coyly over the edge of her phone, bringing it back only far enough to brush the tip of her nose, “Bo… do you remember how, back in high school, there was that one old teacher that claimed the jackalope was ‘a prehistoric cryptid with  _ no  _ scientific backing’?”

“ _ Yeah _ …?” the brown bunny answered, tightening with anticipation.

“Brace yourself for this, because they have an intact, jackalope  _ antler _ on display,” Judy revealed, barely containing her own, resurfacing excitement about the discovery.

Bo’s surprise caught in his throat for the second time in that short van-ride, but finally managed to begin to say, “Well-!”

* * *

_ I’ll Be Dammed _ is a fine, family-friendly restaurant and fishery that caters to any mammal crossing the Lion’s Tail River between the Conifer District and Deciduousville (a transition that more than a few residents refer to as “moving up in the world”). Its owners and curators are Vernon and Beatrice Dammer as it remained largely unchanged since its opening, save for any renovations that brought it up to code and implemented modern conveniences; such as a widescreen, high-definition television. Though small, it is largely regarded as a favorite destination amongst many families in Conifer, and those who would rather not suffer the noise of the new sports bar that opened up down the way.

The very first customer of the day was none other than John Wilde, a fact which Vernon quickly pointed out as he ducked away from the fryer. “ _ What? _ ” the portly beaver gawked, “It can’t be Friday again so  _ soon _ , can it? I was looking forward to a nice, quiet couple o’ days before the weekend kicked up again.” He was happy to see the red fox, long-time friend as he was, and expressed himself with a half-hug over the bar before the tailor sat on a stool (the portion of the restaurant he referred to as “the pub”), “And what’s that face you got on, ‘eh? It’s all so  _ serious _ , I hardly know what to make of it, jolly chap like  _ you _ .”

“What ‘face’? I don’t have a ‘face’,” John denied, touching at his cheeks as though something were smeared there, and then leaned over to peer through the shelves on the wall at the mirror beyond, “Blow me over, I  _ do _ have a face… how long’s  _ that _ been there?”

“Since you walked in the door, at least,” the beaver explained, “though you prob’ly had it on ever since you saw Whiskers bright and early,” and he couldn’t help but snicker, “You know, that soda jerk still thinks you named Nicky after  _ him _ .”

“Something Nicky enjoyed getting free ice cream for as a kit,” the tailor laughed.

Vernon gasped triumphantly, “ _ There’s _ someone I recognize. I  _ thought  _ that fox was pullin’ my tail, callin’ and sayin’ you were on your way up here, but  _ here _ you  _ are _ . So, why don’t you tell me what’s up, ‘eh? Closin’ early on a  _ Tuesday _ , poppin’ in for a cone before breakfast, practically had to  _ tickle _ you to see a smile…” He then cringed as his voice went low, “Sweet mercy, it’s not something with  _ Jackie _ , is it?”

“ _ Vern _ , Vern,” John placated, “relax, everything is  _ fine _ with me and Jackie; couldn’t be better. We’re actually set to go see Nicky out in the country and the train leaves at noon, so we need to finish up all our business before that.”

The beaver gave his friend a long, hard look. “John, you swore up-&-down you’d  _ never _ go back out to Bunnyburrow… not that you  _ ever _ said  _ why _ ,” he pointed out with equal parts concern and suspicion, “Just what sort of ‘business’ are you two ‘finishing up’?”

Fine, vulpine claws tapped against the polished wood bartop. “Well,” the smirking fox said, “Let’s just say that we’ll be picking up Jackie’s hat on the way out.”

“Oh,  _ bugger _ …” Vernon muttered, “Haven’t seen  _ that _ face in… not long enough. What sort of thing did you need from  _ me _ , then?”

John gave it some thought. “A bit early for cider, so I’ll order some juice and then would like to pay my tab,” he stoically explained, reaching into a pocket to pull out his wallet and card for the dreading beaver.

“You act like you’re never comin’ back,” Vernon worried, accepting the piece of plastic and turning towards the register.

“That’s how I must face what’s to come, my friend,” he told with a bright smile, “For as long as I can remember, I’ve always held onto a way out of everything I’ve done… except when it came to Jackie and Nicky… They’re the only ones I’ve ever thrown it all in for, but if I’m being honest with myself, I’m my slyest because of them.”

The beaver heaved a mighty sigh and scratched through the fur on his neck, “Aslan’s mane, this is really serious, innit? I get the feeling it’s more than just about you, though.  _ C’mon _ , I’ve seen you face down worse things than havin’ to apologize.”

“Vernon, there’s something coming to Zootopia. It could be a hurricane or a breeze, but either way, my son’s involved and I cannot idly watch from the sidelines,” John determined and took up the freshly filled mug of juice set before him.

“And what should Bea and I do while all this is happenin’, ‘eh?”

John smacked his lips in a sad smile, “I’m afraid you and your mate have  _ the  _ most difficult task in the city, something that I in all my cleverness could never pluck up the courage for…”

Vern smugly smirked. “‘Business as usual’, is it; make sure it’s better than when you left.”

“Cheers,” the fox toasted and then sipped his mug.

“Speaking of,” the beaver said on his return to the kitchen, “I’ve some chips to tend to. Think you can handle yourself out here for a bit?”

“I’ll shout if anything catches fire.”

John shared a chuckle before pulling out his phone to flick it open. He fully intended to return to his suit shop when everything was said and done, of course, there were promises to be fulfilled and a life to live afterward. Getting out of bad situations and eluding the  _ worst _ is what foxes did best, after all… the former part of which always seemed to be John’s  _ tour de force _ , especially when it was also applied to the latter…  _ most _ foxes did not willingly get  _ into _ trouble. The old tod never regretted his uncanny prowess in cheating death, though; until he met Jackie, and had someone to live for other than himself; until he met Nicky, and saw that his “daring” had rubbed off on his own kit.

Those “Savage Greens” smiled back at John from the phone screen, for his new wallpaper was a recent selfie of he, his mate Jackie, and his son Nicky (wearing the suit he got last Friday). There was trouble in those green eyes, always had been, something John knew as soon as he saw them the day of his son’s birth, and was reminded of ever after. “Ja~ _ ckie _ ,” he said aloud, if to himself, and then said, “Ni~ _ cky _ .” He couldn’t and wouldn’t refuse the smile that came with their enunciations, how the mouth formed into a wide grin from the combined syllables…  _ that _ was his son’s namesake; “A smile you can’t help but make”, so John would say. He felt emboldened, so with another flick of his finger, he brought up a messaging app  _ “tailored” _ to his needs by a raccoon friend of his:

“We still a-go?” the latest text said.

John replied with the “thumbs-up” emoji of a fox’s paw and then tucked his phone back into his coat pocket. Both nostrils flared to the rich aroma of fresh “chips”, as Vern would insist they were called and smiled at the to-go bag set before him with his credit card, the receipt, and a pen. “That’s grand of you, but I couldn’t-”

“On the house,” the beaver offered with a smirk, “and if you make these the last thing you ever eat here, I’ll never speak to you again.”

“It’d be  _ awfully _ rude of me to not accept these now, wouldn’t it,” the fox pondered while signing the merchant’s copy, “‘Twist my arm, bend my tail, pinch my ears until I wail’,” and grinned as he opened up the free food and reached in, “ _ Ooh _ , still hot.”

Vernon leaned on the bar, studying the fox, “It’s the strangest thing, John, I can’t believe I  _ never _ pieced it together that Nick was your son; I don’t think Bea’ll ever stop laughin’ about it. You both were comin’ in here, every other Friday -- different Fridays, granted -- for almost a year, and yet it never occurred to me. The more I think on it, the more it feels like you had it all  _ scheduled _ .”

“That… would be a  _ remarkable _ bit of choreography,” John admitted around a fry.

“But you  _ really _ didn’t talk for sixteen years?” the beaver asked in both doubt and pity.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it. I wanted to reach out to him  _ so _ many times, Vern, but there was always something that… came up.”

“Oh,  _ right _ . He’s your  _ son _ ,” Vernon argued, “What ‘came up’?” He flinched at the steely glare of the fox, as though some primal instinct sparked inside him that he’d tread too far. He coughed apologetically, instead.

John acquiesced to relax his features, “Fox things…” he muttered, “We waited for him to come back… and he  _ did _ , but… I guess he took the long way home.” He huffed. “All too often, though… my tail would catch fire to grab him and shake him by the shoulders, screaming that his mother and I still loved him, that we wanted him back in our lives… But whether it was a client whose business my  _ entire shop _ might very well have teetered on, or I just couldn’t  _ find _ that slippery kit of mine…” he explained with hints of exasperation that petered off to acceptance, “ _ something  _ came up, and I cooled down. And then we’d wait again, ready to receive him at a moment’s notice.”

“You foxes, always so  _ subtle _ ,” the beaver laughed in good humor when he felt the coast was clear, “My kits had their rebellious phases like any other species, and Bea insisted they’d get through it -- which they took their jolly time with -- but you can be  _ sure  _ I clapped my tail down when it affected their school- or housework,” he boasted.

The predator quirked a grin. “Don’t knock subtlety, it serves  _ us foxes _ marvelously well, both in and out of the den. And Nicky’s always been able to go unnoticed when he wanted to, even as a kit -- which he gets from his mother, of course -- but boy howdy, did he keep me on my toes with his ambushes… I never thought I’d miss them. At least up through primary school, after which if he wasn’t at home he was  _ gone _ … until some trouble cropped up, and  _ there _ he was with Finnick… escaping from it.” John chuckled forlornly at first, but it grew into a round of hearty guffaws the more he thought on it, face in his palm as he slapped the bar, “ _ That  _ he gets from  _ me _ , unfortunately.”

Vernon chuckled once, “You’ve always been a watchful sorta bloke for as long as I’ve known you, you and Jackie both. It’s a lot to swallow that you just… _didn’t_ _know_ what happened to him.”

“Oh, I kept eyes, ears,  _ and _ nose peeled after he left home… he wasn’t my little kit anymore, from what I gathered, but then he disappeared  _ completely _ ; just dropped off the radar, like a  _ ghost _ . That’s when I really started to worry… until he and Finnick appeared again, selling  _ popsicles _ ,” he paused, and corrected himself, “ _ Hustling _ popsicles. It’s also when he started sending money, which… Jackie and I figured was his way of saying that he still thought of us. Every month for ten-plus years, we found another envelope of money pushed through the mail slot… we tried to catch him at it… but really, we were just happy to know he came to visit every now and then.”

“And now he’s the first fox cop,” the beaver commended, “Tha’s a right, good thing, that is.”

“After his birth, his graduation from the police academy is  _ the _ proudest moment of our lives as parents, but let me tell ya’, Vern, it turned the city on its head;  _ subtly _ ,” John leered. His face then softened into an amused grin, “I was both scared and overjoyed to see him with that Judy Hopps at the press conference… I don’t know how she did it, but she got Nicky on camera  _ and _ in the ZPD… That bunny is the stuff of legends, mark my words,” he decreed, to which Vernon seemed to share the sentiment while scratching his chest. But then John said to himself, “I still wonder what she said that made him so mad, though… and like  _ that _ ,” his fingers snapped, “Nicky was in the wind…” By the shift of his eyes, he seemed to return to the present day, “I’m not afraid to admit that I’m a teensy bit concerned.”

“Because of this ‘something’ you were on about?”

John rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, “Nicky ghosted twelve years ago right before the PredaTherp scandal broke, and when he did it again last year, the Pred-Scare. If precedence is all I have to work with, then I might lose my son again right after getting him back.”

“ _ Blimey _ … you weren’t kiddin’ when you said a ‘hurricane’, were you,” a Vernon said only just managing to hold himself together, “Those weren’t good times for pred  _ or _ prey, nothing but  _ fear _ and  _ death _ around every corner. My family was threatened on more than one occasion for ‘sympathizing’… we’re  _ still  _ recovering from that! John, don’t tell me that’s happening  _ again _ ?”

John wiped the salt and grease from his fingers and mouth before tossing the napkin into the newly emptied bag of fries. “Of course not,” he assured while correcting his necktie in absolute authority, “because  _ I _ won’t let it.”

Vernon reeled incredulously with a brow-furrowed pout. “So you’ll be saving the city now, I suppose. Awful altruistic of ya’, but forgive me if I’m a  _ wee  _ bit doubtful.”

“Oh…” the fox mused, and stood from his stool, “All  _ I’m  _ doing is keeping Nicky in my life; no citywide terror, no ghosting son of mine. If the rest of Zootopia benefits from it, then it’s another feather in my cap.” He grinned wide and tapped his brow in a salute to the beaver, “Thanks for the hospitality, Vern; I feel tons lighter without all that on my chest. And give Beatrice my warmest regards; I can’t wait to savor her fish-&-chips again.”

“John Wilde, you cheeky bliker, if you hadn’t just paid your tab, I’d have half-a-mind to suspect you did all that for the free chips,” the beaver accused, despite the upturned corner of his mouth.

“Funny you should mention that, because Whiskers said the same about that scoop he gave me,” John teased.

“And I suppose you ran  _ him _ the full story about missing your son and all that?”

“Now now,” the fox placated, “All I did was give him a spare key to the shop while I was out of town. If he wants to give me a complimentary scoop of vanilla with chocolate sprinkles, I can hardly deny him, right?”

“You probably cleared what ‘tab’ you had at the  Frozen Fox , too, I wouldn’t wonder.”

“… _ May _ be.”

Vernon snorted derisively and crossed his arms.

John smiled and shrugged both in wide gesture as he sauntered towards the door.

“Don’t expect me to open up a  _ new _ tab for ya’!” Vernon called.

“You  _ will _ ,” John answered before he left into the mid-morning air.

“ _ Yeah _ , I will,” the beaver abided in a smirk, “bloody  _ fox _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graham's proclivity for obscure and occult imagery was a plot-point back in Trustworthy and one of the first things which clued our intrepid heroes into his involvement. The drawing first appeared during the double-date lunch (on a paid-for receipt) in Trustworthy, chapter 11, and was referenced again in chapter 15, found inside of Gideon's vat.
> 
> Nichlago F. Thistlemore was one of the Burrow Watch members that chased after Nick in Brave, chapter 15, until an unkindness of ravens intervened (with arguable benefit), namely, he and Nicky Winge were called out by the largest raven any of them had ever seen and assumed doomed to some horrible fate (as it often the case with ravens).
> 
> "Oklahorna City" referenced Oklahoma City of the American Mid-west. By my reckoning, Zootopia is city-state and the Capital (or at the very least, the major city) of the nation wherein it resides (it's not been mentioned yet but has been alluded to as "Animalia", as in, "The United States of".
> 
> Professor William Kazar references Kazar from the 2006 feature film, "The Wild", voiced by William Shatner. Kazar would be an absolutely fascinating villain for the world of Zootopia because his villainous plot was to flip the food chain by eating a lion, an apropos and macabre twist on the premise of the movie, "Zootopia". The fact that he was a dance choreographer opened up a possible (if uncomfortable) connection with the starlet, Gazelle.
> 
> Max Hareton references the 1935 animated short, "The Tortoise and the Hare" (voiced by Ned Norton). He was never depicted as keeping bees in the movie but it fit for this story.
> 
> Vernon and Beatrice Dammer, along with their restaurant "I'll Be Dammed", harkens back to Trustworthy, chapter 3. Their relationship with the Wildes is somewhat reminiscent of Mr. & Mrs. Beaver and Mr. Fox from the 2005 movie, "Chronicles of Narnia" (even if in that the former was suspicious of the latter, it seemed they became friends afterward, aligned to a common cause).
> 
> Nick "Whiskers" Offerfox is the "soda jerk" curator of "The Frozen Fox", the yet unnamed "fox ice cream joint" from the movie. Whiskers (so recognized for his glorious facial fur) is based on the character of the same name from the TV show, "Sofia the First", specifically the episode of "Winter's Gift", voiced by Nick Offerman (also boasting glorious facial hair).
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	4. Chapter 4

“And hold,” Esther instructed.

“Holding,” Gideon grunted.

“ _ Hold _ ,” she insisted after some seconds.

“I  _ am _ !” he argued if lacking any tangible evidence to support his claim. His arms and legs screamed for mercy before he fell onto his back, the bridge once made by bracing the floor and arching his abdomen skyward was short-lived. Gideon wheezed as he scrambled to sit up and address the disappointed sigh of his older sibling. “I  _ did _ it, didn’t I?”

“Watch your tone, Giddy;  _ you _ asked  _ me _ to show you these exercises.”

“Yeah, well, you make it look  _ too _ easy,” he muttered under his breath.

“And fun!” Nick added, casually reclined on the couch.

Gideon rubbed at his flanks in a groan, “I’m sore just about  _ ev’rywhere _ .”

“Didn’t I say you shouldn’t do these stretches on a full stomach, and in jeans?” the vixen berated but then huffed, “Points for enthusiasm, though, I’ll give you that.”

“If you’d like, Bangs, I can introduce you to an instructor back in the city. She operates out of Mystic Oasis, though, so clothes would be a no-go,” he smirked.

“Oh, the nudey camp…” the stouter fox fretted as he stood with a wobble, and then shook out his legs, “I’ll, uhh… stick with someone out here in the country, thanks; we got plenty of those types as is, ‘specially in the summer months.”

“In  _ that  _ case, I know someone who-”

“My fluffy red tail you do!”

“No, really,” Nick nonchalantly insisted, “The next time you see Bo, ask him about Phil.”

“The bartender?” Esther wondered aloud.

“Apparently he trained fighters in the city before coming out here to open up a watering hole.”

Gideon scratched his head in astonishment. “Jiminy Cricket, Stretch, you really  _ do _ know ev’ryone, don’t you?”

Nick smugly stretched out along the couch. “It took me a few days to get used to all this  _ farm _ stuff out here, but I’m nothing if not a resourceful fox.”

“So he, uh… ‘trained fighters’, huh?” he speculated with an inching grin, “That actually sounds pretty  _ cool _ .”

“You’re  _ really _ dead-set on getting into shape, aren’t you,” Nick concluded.

“Sure  _ am _ !”

“Okay. Why?”

“Because I ain’t what you’d call an  _ athletic _ sort-”

“ _ I  _ never would,” Esther affirmed.

“But after winning the tractor-pull yesterday,” Gideon continued, sparing only a single glower at his sister, who responded with a sagely nod, “I figure there might be some muscle under this here pudge, and I wouldn’t mind bringin’ it out,” he said with a pat of his stomach, “Y’know, now that I’m a brand-spankin' new fox and ev’rything.”

Nick raised his head in doubtful critique, “Does this mean your cooking will be…  _ healthier _ ?”

The stouter fox crossed his arms. “That oatmeal you about  _ inhaled _ this morning was plenty healthy, I even used that… what was it… the  _ gluten-free _ stuff, yeah.”

Although Nick opened his mouth and raised a finger to debate the issue, he managed no discernible rebuttal and so furrowed his brow to flatly stare away in thought, muttering something about whether he could have tasted the difference or not.

“Giddy, oatmeal doesn’t have gluten, to begin with,” Esther whispered to her brother.

“ _ Shush _ ,” Gideon whispered back, “he don’t know that.”

Nick exaggerated a groan of concession instead, “Alright,  _ fine _ , but I demand to test  _ all _ of your new recipes before they’re released on an unsuspecting public. As a part of my civic duty, of course.”

Esther’s phone merrily chirped. “Oh, it’s Judy,” she revealed, “She and Bo are on their way. Alright, let’s head out.”

“They ain’t comin’ to pick us up?” an incredulous Gideon asked.

“ _ No _ , we’re going to  _ meet _ them at the clinic.”

Both tods groaned their very audible dismay.

“ _ Another _ late-morning trek through the countryside,” Nick griped, “Hoo _ ray _ .”

“If I’d known we was  _ hikin’  _ back, I wouldn’t’ve bothered exercising.”

“At least I don’t have to run or carry a suitcase this time.”

“Oh, a whole  _ suitcase _ , Stretch? I’ve lugged  _ crates _ of stuff from-”

“Alright, kits, bellyaching-time is over, so grab your shades and let’s get moving,” Esther butt-in with a double clap of her paws, “Chop-chop.”

Nick rolled off the cushions with a dramatic sweep of his tail to smooth out his faded t-shirt and straighten his cargo shorts, an unusual wardrobe choice for him on any other day but as he explained it, “The amount of mammals I’m trying to impress today is currently at zero, and I can handle any Johnny-come-latelies as necessary. Besides, after this weekend I need to  _ relax _ , or else I’ll likely launch into orbit at the slightest spook.” Nick hadn’t even bothered to brush  _ all _ of his fur that morning, resulting in some scruffy ends of the sleek bits in his pelt. The particular brand of devil-may-care attitude was further explained by the phrasing of his shirt: “I  am paying attention” followed by a smaller font beneath saying “the check’s in the mail”. He did, however, still tuck a handkerchief into his back pocket, “Just in case”.

“There, now you’re like a  _ proper _ farm-fox,” Gideon pointed out to his cousin, “None of that… whatever it was you were tryin’ to do yesterday.” He adjusted the sunglasses on his snout and locked the front door after their departure; tucked under his arm was the rolled-up, pink apron bearing its smiling pie logo -- the very same he wore in his normal routine of delivering “very good baked stuffs” to eager customers across Bunnyburrow. After all, it was Tuesday and he had work to get back to (even if he didn’t think there’d be much in the way of business, what with the TBR still in full swing), but maybe some of the bunnies who tried his pies after the contest were interested in purchasing a few. As it so happened, he brought along a tote bag with the sandwiches he made for lunch and some fudge-and-walnut brownies for Dr. Honey; Nick demanded to know  _ when _ the brownies were made,  _ why _ he wasn’t informed, and that he be allowed to eat one as restitution for “keeping secrets from a fellow fox”. Gideon remained smugly quiet about it all and insisted that he didn’t need Nick’s help in carrying them.

Esther kept the bangs from her face with a bobby pin behind each ear, for she, unlike Nick, was dressed to impress for her work with the Felix (even if the business ensemble she wore was an older one that she kept at her parents’ house, and so had to get the mothballs out of). She’d hoped it would make her look traditional and professional; Nick “nicely” explained that what she had on was “vintage”, and could probably do without the shoulder pads. “It’d be too hot for the jacket, anyway,” she decided, opting to re-wear the outer top she had on the night before (after Gideon quickly ironed it). “Reminds me of when I walked to work at the  Notary and Records ,” she mused as they embarked, “Before law school, of course. All these years and it hasn’t changed much more than a fresh coat of paint. I’d bet my tail they have the same fridge, too; that thing was ancient  _ long _ before I got there.”

“So… speaking of the long-since ancient,” Nick wondered aloud, gazing over at the sunlit neighboring farm as he recalled his meeting in the woods of the prior morning, along with the ravens involved in both present observation and memory, “Edward Mallupe looks like he’s been around the block a few hundred times.”

“Tha’s one way of puttin’ it,” Gideon remarked.

“What’s  _ his _ story in all this?”

“Like, how d’you mean?”

“As in: would he have known the Greys back in the day?”

“Consider  _ that _ well already tapped,” Esther sighed, “I tried plying Mr. Mallupe for information  _ years _ ago, and long story short, he didn’t even  _ know _ there were foxes in ‘that rundown lean-to’ until he heard  _ me _ crying on a daily basis. I figured Pa’s hammering would’ve been a dead giveaway, but that wolf was, as you put it, ‘long-since ancient’. At that point, it was only Ma and Pa, but no sign of Aunt Jackie.”

“There was  _ some _ kinda feud for a few years between him and Pa which ended nice and quiet-like,” Gideon recalled.

“How so?” Nick asked with mild interest.

“Mainly about  _ who _ owned the land, which as it turns out  _ neither  _ of them did, so it was up-for-grabs to whoever cleared and made use of it. There’s other, tiresome gobbledygook that  _ I _ find fascinating,” Esther chuckled, “but I won’t bore you two with real estate disputes in Bunnyburrow.”

“Appreciated. I doubt that made the feud not a feud, though.”

“Naw,” the baker dismissed as they continued down the main access road of the Preds’ Corner residential farms, “they made peace by tryin’ to join our families together,” he said in a grin, and playfully elbowed a bristling Esther, “Tha’s the ‘deal’ with Mack and Essy here.”

Nick quirked a severe brow, “Quite an age gap, Cherries, Mack was well into his thirties when  _ I _ met him a decade ago.”

“It is,” she begrudgingly agreed, “but Mack was one of the eldest,  _ available _ sons at the time, and… I don’t deny that when I was sixteen, a charming, mature male certainly had its appeal. It  _ almost _ made me glad that Pa shooed off all those suitors when I was a teenager.”

“They were doin’ fine, too,” the stouter fox said, “Right up until Mack left without no word or letter. Though I guess since he’s a spook in the city, it makes  _ some _ sense…”

“And you still haven’t forgiven him for that,” Nick assumed.

“He still hasn’t  _ apologized _ for that,” Esther resolutely corrected. “Pa took it as something of an affront, so Ed tried to make right by offering Giddy his youngest pup, Lory, instead.”

“What is she, like, forty or something?”

“She some months my junior,” Gideon said.

Nick choked on his own spit. “ _ How? _ ”

Both Grey siblings had a laugh as the city-fox recovered. “Ol’ Ed’s her  _ grandpappy _ , is how,” Gideon finally revealed, to which Nick vaguely affirmed, “but he’s raised her since birth, like with lots o’ his pups and grandpups…  _ great _ -grandpups, which I actually think Lory  _ is _ . Anywho, that old wolf is old  _ world _ , and I guess according to pack law, they’re  _ all _ his ‘children’,” and quoted the air, “Most of us call ‘em as such ‘cause it don’t make a wit of diff’rence one way or the other.”

“Right, so,” Nick pondered as he then turned to his cousin when his throat was sufficiently cleared, “You’re in an arranged marriage.”

Gideon groaned dubiously, “Sorta, not really? Lory and I weren’t really… up on all that since I was like…  _ ten _ , I think, and girls were still covered in cooties. And o’course, I was a whole  _ other _ mess of problems when I got back from…  _ y’know _ . We’re neighborly, though, so no bridges burned.”

“Pa and Ed called it a wash and decided to build bonds based on friendship and trust,  _ et cetera _ , rather than some forced relationships with their offspring,” Esther smirked and then said, “Oh, speak of the devil,” while lifting her head and ears towards a gentle hum approaching the gap in the fence that they, coincidentally, were also bound for. As the motorist slowed for the turn through the fence opening, the vixen waved at who she knew was Mallory Mallupe, or more casually, “Hi Lory,” as the wolf came to a curiously full stop and removed her helmet, “And… what might you be up to today?”

“Hi, y’all,” she cheerily greeted, bracing the ground with one foot as she turned off her moped. From the orange rag tucked into her denim overalls to the yellow-checkered shirt rolled to the elbow, the wolf bore clear signs of working in dirt, sweat, and motor oil, despite it being as early in the day as it was. The black and dark gray of her fur did well to hide any errant splatter, but not so much the white of her paws, snout, and neck, hurriedly cleaned as they were, “Fancy meeting you here. I was just on my way into town to test out a few tune-ups on this thing.”

“It’s a small world after all,” Nick mused, eying not only how she sat forward on the elongated seat, but also the larger basket attached and reinforced behind said seat, and the ample leg room of the driver, “That is a  _ mighty _ fine scooter you’ve got there, no around-town rinky-dink, I reckon. Do you make deliveries with such a valiant steed?”

“‘Valiant’,” Lory giggled, “I dunno if I’d go  _ that _ far, but you’re right, deliveries keep me scootin’. How’d you know?”

“A  _ ‘Wilde’ _ guess,” he grinned, to which Gideon snorted a snicker, “but what a lucky happenstance that  _ you’re _ heading into town, too. I don’t suppose you’d be branching into the rideshare business…”

“Oh, you mean like  _ hitching _ a ride? Sure, so long as no one moves ‘round too much, we should all be able to squeeze on here-”

“I call the basket,” Nick declared, pointing with a decisive stride, “Bangs, give me a leg-up, yeah?”

“That puts me behind the handlebars, then,” Esther concluded, and then turned to her brother, “And  _ you  _ in the bucket seat.”

“I mean,” Gideon input, giving his cousin the requested boost into the designated container, “ _ I _ don’t mind standin’…”

“It’s a bit more than that, though,” she briskly explained, “and between the two of us,  _ I _ have better balance.”

Perhaps it was then he remembered he couldn’t stand on one foot for very long while his sister showed him those exercises, but the stouter fox merely grunted in a shrug to concede her point. “A’ight, well, Stretch here can hold onto our stuff, then,” and so tossed his rolled-up apron at his cousin.

“Oh good, padding,” Nick pointed out, lining the bottom of the basket before using the attached belt to hold cargo in place, to instead strap  _ himself _ in. He grunted as Esther’s book bag was, likewise, dropped on him, “And, a  _ backrest _ ,” he continued, and carefully affixed it behind him. His paws were extended with rapt expectancy for Gideon’s tote bag of deliciousness, but when it was denied Nick quirked his mouth and brow with a canting head, “Bangs, c’mon, you’re not going to carry that  _ and _ hold onto the scooter all the way into town.”

Once again, Gideon grunted in concession as he relaxed his protective grip to abide the ambitiously reaching paws, but flinched back at a desperate swipe, “Now you see here, ya’ bottomless-pit, I counted  _ eight _ brownies when I closed the bag before we left, and there had be best  _ eight _ brownies in here when I get ‘em back, or else you can consider it the last thing of  _ mine _ you’ll ever eat.”

After putting one paw to his heart and raising the other, Nick vowed, “It will be my solemn duty to ensure you are returned all your enumerated baked goods, on penalty of a death-like state wherein I am to never again eat your cooking.” The tote bag was thereby entrusted.

Lory twisted about in her seat and sniffed, loosing a happy  _ whurf _ -type sound at the exchange, “ _ Ooh _ , fudge and walnut, right?”

Nick grinned as he set the package in his lap, “So the legend goes. Pray tell, Lory, what are the  _ sandwiches _ ?”

The wolf blinked bashfully at the expectant pairs of blue eyes, but then leaned over and sniffed again, “There’s… kale, tomato, cucumber, mustard, mayo, black pepper, and… quail on white bread?”

“Y-yeah!” Gideon exclaimed as he mounted the moped’s seat to hold securely onto the sidebars, and then softly laughed, “Tha’s it  _ exactly _ .”

“You’re as keen as a co-worker of mine,” Esther said, “We rely on him to make sure they get the lunch orders correct before we open the boxes.”

“Same with the pack at the precinct,” Nick added, “Not to brag, but I can hold my own in their ID-by-scent games. Pro-tip: don’t accept the blindfold-challenge, because it  _ will _ be someone’s armpit.”

Lory waved her paw in a snorting snicker, but smiled modestly, “Oh, it’s nothin’, jus’ me and my nose bein’ a wolf, is all,” and promptly put her helmet back on and revved up the scooter, “An’ Giddy’s bakin’ is  _ the  _ best in Bunnyburrow; I could smell it a mile off and then some.”

Nick’s grin did not diminish as he settled in the basket, taking a peek inside the tote bag to have his own whiff of the brownies, and to thoroughly affirm their supposed count of  _ eight _ … With the four rolling along the country road, he reached into the bag as discreetly and as quietly as he could to withdraw the  _ ninth _ brownie to savor its taste, texture, and the hint of slyness that came with it all. As far as Nick Wilde was concerned, it may not have been a good week  _ so far _ , but it  _ was  _ only Tuesday.

* * *

Lanny Wild was  _ not _ having a good week so far, and it was only  _ Tuesday _ . He lay sprawled in the bed of his cream-topped, blue pickup truck outside of the Preds’ Corner clinic, watching the mid-morning clouds with his paws folded behind his cropped-mane head (as far as “cropped” qualified for lions). With one foot bracing the open tailgate to prop up the other leg, he ruminated on what lead him to that point in his life… maybe he could discern any mistakes to watch out for in the future…

Maybe he shouldn’t have volunteered to come out to Bunnyburrow in the  _ first place _ , after all, he only did so because it meant he wouldn’t be available for that one hospice care position he kept avoiding. The Director of Nursing back at Lion’s Gate General asked him  _ repeatedly _ to fill the role but Lanny refused each time -- despite the basic training he received as an end-of-life nurse -- and was running out of good excuses. It would mean giving up his long-standing, half-time job as a dockworker at shipping-&-receiving of  Pridelands Enterprises , which he’d already left and returned to before when funds were low, both in and out of nursing school. It would be doubly awkward, since the old lion needing said hospice care was a big kahuna in said Enterprises, and to date had gone through nearly a dozen more qualified nurses (though, none yet a  _ lion _ ) on suspicion that “they were poisoning him”. Quite frankly, it felt like a no-win situation for Lanny, which he wasn’t too keen on.

Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped to help a stranded pair of foxes during his last prescription delivery, for the Hopps farmhouse. Surely in such a modern day of cell phones and user-friendly apps, ranging anywhere from “alpha behavioral courses” to “xylophonic yodeling zebras”, there could be a towing service out there soon enough. Then again… when he discovered that one of the stranded foxes was Gideon Grey, whose pastries were something of a guilty pleasure amongst the established staff at Bunnyburrow General, Lanny coveted the slim chance to have another of the infamous baker’s cream puffs. That’s nothing to say of the moment of pride when both Gideon and Nick Wilde, the other stranded fox, commended the lion’s strength after their van was practically hoisted from a sinkhole. Self-serving motives aside, it was the then-unknown third passenger, Judy Hopps, and her Night Howler-induced state which nixed any regret Lanny might have harbored; the more he thought on it, the more he realized that if he wasn’t there with the antidote which the paranoid Dr. Honey  _ required _ him to carry at all times, it’s likely that the little bunny would not have made it…

Maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to assist Nick in the pie-eating contest, where the whipped cream drugged with Night Howler would be unwittingly tested by innocent bystanders. From the sounds of it, Lanny and his antidote weren’t even  _ needed _ because Nick, Gideon, and Bo Briar -- a member of the Burrow Watch and fellow iron-pumper -- managed to substitute  _ clean _ whipped cream and otherwise covered all their bases, such that none would be the wiser of foul deeds. Lanny could not participate in the pie-eating contest as he would have liked, because he was stuck inside of an unused tent while hiding from the Prince’s Guard; a group of fanatics looking for the still missing Simon King, whose only similarities -- as far as Lanny was concerned -- was their species and age-group. On top of which, Lanny unwittingly “tested” the drugged whipped cream from one of several identical plasticwares, requiring  _ another _ usage of the antidote while he was “nighthowling”. Still… Lanny squared his shoulders and swelled his chest when he remembered that while in his pseudo-feral state, he pounced and subdued Doug Ramses,  _ the _ sniper of the Pred-Scare… to know that he took out such an anti-predator villain filled him with cold, steely courage (and gave him something to brag about to his roommates back home).

Maybe he shouldn’t have forgotten his stupid phone during his stint hidden in an unused tent, just in case Dr. Honey decided to call or text him  _ fifty times  _ in the span of a few hours. “Yeah, that’s the one,” Lanny grumbled and traced his mobile device through the pocket of his jeans if only to verify that it was still there.

At the end of it all, Lanny had to report  _ every _ use of the Night Howler antidote, and also had to admit that he didn’t  _ actually  _ use an otter-sized dosage on an otter that ran off before he could get a name. As it turned out, Dr. Honey wasn’t  _ too _ mad about him lying to her, because she “didn’t believe him anyway”; what  _ really  _ “stuck in her craw” was that she thought he shirked his duties to go “nighthowling” when she discovered that a  _ lion _ -sized dosage was missing. It was only after he came one-hundred-percent clean about everything that happened and everyone involved (including Judy and Nick’s own ingestion of the drug, as confirmed by Sheriff Longmare) that she agreed to  _ not _ report him to his director back at Lions Gate…

The lion yawned in a fashion particular to his species and then stretched his arms high overhead before shuffling out of the bed of his truck to sit on the tailgate with dangling feet (and a slight incline from the shift of weight). As his ears suspected, there were voices approaching the front of the clinic, so he hopped down and closed his seat to traverse around from the rear entrance. The voices he recognized as Nick and Gideon were with two female voices he didn’t, but could safely assume that they weren’t any of the Knotash bunnies with their thousands of concerns about hygiene, a sterile operating room, and whether or not Lanny was named “Oswald” or “Leodore”; his name came up with  _ every _ interaction, especially if he was  _ sure _ that neither his first nor middle name was “Oswald” or “Leodore”, or if he  _ knew _ any lions named “Oswald” or “Leodore” also in Bunnyburrow.

“Six, seven, and  _ eight _ ,” Gideon counted before Lanny peered around the corner, but after the departing sounds of some small, motorized vehicle, “Well, tickle me pink, Stretch, you were true to your word.”

“So  _ surprised _ ,” Nick scoffed, a paw gesturing with mild indignation, “I  _ do  _ have self-control, I’ll have you know.”

“Who’d a-thunk it?”

“Speaking of self-control that was  _ quite _ the bumpy ride, wasn’t it?”

“It… it was pretty jiggering, yeah…” Gideon quietly agreed, “And jus’  _ what _ are you implyin’-?”

“Hold on,” Nick interrupted, “I’m pretty sure I can’t hear the lion sneaking up on us…” He spun with a sweep of his tail upon Lanny’s sauntering approach and spread his arms wide, “Hey, hey! There he  _ is _ , the freight train himself,” the taller fox lauded, striding forward with a wheeling of his paws before throwing a few mock punches at the lion’s thigh, “ _ You _ have been invaluable for as long as I’ve known you; a rare honor, really.”

“And what’s that make  _ me _ ?” one smirking fox asked the other.

“Life-support.”

Lanny, despite any previous inclinations he had from the trouble thrust into his aggressively uneventful existence, could no longer withhold his chuckling as evidenced by his shaking shoulders and chest, “And a good morning to you, too, Nick, Gideon. Who were they?” he asked, lifting his head to the direction of the departing females.

“Yeah, and what was it you were whisperin’ when you thought I wasn’t lookin’?”

“Whoa,  _ whoa _ ,” the taller fox insisted, “Nurse, grab me some ointment because I’m getting the third degree over here.”

“So you  _ were _ schemin’,” Gideon judged, putting a fist to his hip after tucking both his tote bag and balled-up apron under the other arm.

“‘Schemin’’ is such a  _ harsh _ word, Bangs, I like to think of it as-”

“If you say ‘insurance policy’, Stretch, so help me…”

Nick paused and studied his cousin, glanced up at an awkwardly coughing Lanny, and then answered, “It was an  _ errand _ , nothing more.”

“You’d best not be takin’ advantage of a nice girl like Lory.”

“Of  _ course _ not,” he huffed haughtily, “that’s why I told  _ Esther _ what I needed Lory’s  _ nose _ for.”

Lanny grunted dubiously. “Nick, why is it whenever I run into you, there’s always something  _ else  _ going on?”

“Freight,” Nick replied in direct address to the lion, “you would be safe to assume that  _ everything _ to do with foxes has at least  _ some _ double meaning… that’s not to say that those meanings are mutually exclusive, though,” he smirked.

“‘Fraid so,” Gideon confirmed to the deepening concern on the maned face, “It also ain’t as dev’lish as Mr. Smart-mouth over here makes it sound.”

“‘Kay…” Lanny worried, and scratched the back of his neck, “So… Lory and Esther, then? That’s their names?”

“Well caught,” Nick began, “They are the sweethearts of Gideon and me respectively-”

“Lory a-a- _ ain’t  _ mine!” Gideon squeakily butt in, ears pinned back and red hot.

“Oh, please,” he dismissed with a flick of his wrist, “she was flirting with you and it was obvious.”

“Uh  _ huh _ …” Lanny grunted in a smirk, a fist set to one of his hips, “Okay, I think I’m seeing this whole ‘fox duality’ thing,” and bent over far enough to bump the baker with a playful paw, whose fur glowed a brighter red.

With a thoughtful bobbling of his head and a cradling of his chin, Nick presented his observation, “I guess my dear cousin won’t be returning her affections as of yet, but no matter, the  _ important _ thing is  _ she _ endeavored to catch us out on the road before we got too far along. I do recall spotting a raven or two perched over the audience of the tractor-pull yesterday, which leads me to believe it’s something of a Mallupe family thing,” and then added for the lion’s benefit, “Mallory Mallupe, by the way, she and her family control ravens.”

Lanny’s concern further deepened with a pursing of his lips.

“They  _ train _ ‘em,” Gideon corrected, his face having calmed down a bit, but only a bit, “it’s not some  _ magic  _ thing.”

“You’ll understand if I’m skeptical of the denial of magic by someone who can make _brownies_ appear out of thin air,” Nick argued at the rolling blue eyes, and then looked over the skies of Preds’ Corner, “Especially when there are _three_ ravens following her right now, but I digress. Lory might’ve participated in the _audible_ shock of the audience that never expected _you_ , Gideon Grey, to willingly shuck your shirt for everyone’s viewing pleasure.”

Gideon lightly kicked at a nearby pebble, “I-I-I was kinda caught up in the moment, I guess…”

The lion’s concern segued into a single curious grunt, “A fox acting like an alpha…” he mused with quite the arched brow and cocked grin, thick arms crossed over his chest.

“I know, it was  _ quite _ the spectacle, not that he didn’t back the claim by winning a blue ribbon to match his eyes,” Nick teased, and then elbowed his shying cousin, “which I’m sure caught Lory’s attention and gave her the idea that, maybe, something from their youth could be reignited and pursued.” He smiled and shrugged at the continued bashfulness, “I don’t pretend to know how the intricate female mind works, but it best explains  _ why _ she showed up when she did, beneficial not only because I didn’t feel like walking -- and don’t give me that look, Bangs, neither did  _ you _ \-- but also for the ‘errand’ I mentioned earlier.”

Though standing in absolute nonchalance, his eyes glanced and ears flicked before he spoke low, “Doug’s rifle case is still hidden in Preds’ Corner, or I’m not Nick Wilde.” Both Gideon and Lanny flinched before leaning in to confirm such an allegation, only to flinch right back up again at Nick’s reacting gesture, “Okay, guys, don’t need to tell the  _ whole town  _ that we’re talking secrets here. Just relax, act like this is completely normal stuff.”

Lanny exchanged a put-off expression with Gideon’s inclining nod, “Right, nothin’ out of the ordinary,” the stouter fox led with a wink, “So, why d’you think  _ it  _ still is, Stretch?”

“Because those porcelain bunnies are still here but their moving vans  _ aren’t _ ,” Nick explained in a more normal tone, a thumb pointing generally over his shoulder, “and while a  _ lot _ of the Lookers have already shipped out, there’s enough lingering to discourage any suspicious activity.  _ That thing _ I mentioned would be the size of a couch for bunnies, not easily transported with discretion, especially considering  _ whose _ it is and  _ what  _ should be in there; which is where Esther and Lory come in,” Nick grinned, “After our ride through town to get  _ here _ , I gave Esther a quick-and-dirty list of where it  _ might  _ be hidden, and all she would need to do is get Lory close enough to detect something that I smelled on Doug yesterday.”

“Oh!” Lanny jumped… at least looked like he might’ve, but resisted the urge and shuffled his paws to shift to casualness, “I mean…  _ Oh _ , the ‘ _ parfum de loup _ ’?” the lion suggested.

Nick grinned and clicked a finger-gun, “ _ No _ , otherwise  _ any _ of the sheriff’s sniffers could’ve found it easy-peasy, but you’re on the right  _ track _ . A professional of  _ his _ caliber wouldn’t make such a rookie mistake as to leave so obvious a scent trail; they’d instead use a high-quality liquid sealant to keep anything traceable  _ inside _ their super-secret carry-on luggage.”

“Is  _ that _ what you smelled?” a bewildered Gideon asked.

A grinning Nick clicked another finger-gun, “ _ No _ , but  _ almost _ . The professional-caliber mistake that Ol’ Doug made was using a commonplace but specific household product that removes such things as liquid sealant, caulking, paint, and…  _ motor oil  _ from fur in a jiffy, and in his case, excess from a newly sealed opening. It’s indistinguishable from the disinfecting wipes that certain clean-freaks from Knotash buy in bulk  _ if _ you don’t have the super-keen schnozz of a wolf.  _ I _ only know the difference because  _ I  _ know what to look, or rather,  _ smell _ for,” the taller fox explained with some masterfully masked boasting, “Lory should be able to catch a whiff of it so that Esther -- sly vixen that she is -- could narrow down where to search without anyone else -- namely, Lory -- wising up to her intentions.”

“So… this ‘Lory’ would be something like radar, then?” Lanny suggested.

“Bingo-was-his-name-o,” Nick chimed, and then turned to Gideon, “Simply put, Lory wiped her paws clean of motor oil before she ‘stumbled onto us’, I feigned  _ rapt _ interest in it to get her thinking about it, and then Esther leads Lory on a quick goose chase, later reporting any points of interest to  _ me _ . No fuss, no muss, but more importantly,  _ no  _ perceivable involvement _ whatsoever _ , just a couple of nice, local ladies on a ride through town.”

“And tha’s why you were nuzzlin’ up to Essy all sugary-like before she left, makin’ her giggle like a schoolgirl,” Gideon said.

Nick smirked to his fellow fox but sidelong-glanced to a pondering Lanny, “That was  _ a _ reason, yes, but there  _ were _ sweet nothings whispered along with the covert instructions to aid in our investigation.”

The lion seemed both enlightened and cynical, “So… you cleverly manipulated someone you just met into helping you with something that  _ could _ get them into a heap of trouble?”

“Oh,” Nick groaned, “Yeah, _ anything  _ sounds bad when you say it with  _ that  _ attitude.”

Lanny continued, “After taking advantage of their altruism while on a country road…”

“You know what, I don’t think I like your tone, buster.”

“ _ Again _ .”

Nick crossed his arms and pinned his ears back. “You done?”

The larger mammal glanced away to run a paw through his mane, a slow intake of air through his nostrils being his sole noise.

“You look a bit conflicted there, Lan,” Gideon pointed out.

He thought back to what he  _ discerned _ when lying in the bed of his truck, “My gut’s telling me it’ll work out somehow, even though I don’t  _ think  _ it will… at  _ all _ .”

“Nothing needs to ‘work out’,” Nick gingerly explained, “As a matter of fact, I expect  _ nothing _ to come of this.”

“But you did it anyway,” Gideon teased with a light shove of his cousin’s shoulder.

“Because there’s  _ zero  _ risk,” a playfully staggering Nick answered, “ _ If _ nothing comes of it, then it amounts to Esther and Lory getting to talk girl-stuff for a few minutes which would have happened  _ anyway _ , end of story, but if there  _ is _ a chance for success, it might be our  _ only _ one ever. Trust me on this, Freight,” he then said to Lanny while reaching into his pocket after it buzzed while he was talking. “There, see?” he said upon reading the screen, “She’s off to see the Felix, no  _ blips _ on the radar; done and over with, all in a matter of… what, three minutes,  _ maybe _ four? On top of which, Esther is,” and chuckled with a stroke of his jaw while stowing his phone, “an  _ exceptionally _ sly vixen.  _ If _ we drew anyone’s attention, we  _ deserve _ to get caught. As it is, Lory goes back to delivering stuff on her scooter, the sheriff isn’t bothered with any new information, and we continue waiting on our most favoritest rabbits in the world.”

Lanny was quiet some many seconds, even if his mild agitation was suggested by a whisking tail, “Well…” he began to concede, but by his furrowed brow and set jaw, seemed resolutely averse.

Gideon casually smiled and shuffled about in his tote bag to retrieve a single brownie held in a napkin, and so offered it up to the lion’s suddenly brighter eyes. “This is for you if you stop poutin’.”

His face relaxed with a soft, speculative grunt. “I suppose it’s pretty silly to get bent out of shape about something that hasn’t happened, huh,” Lanny admitted and accepted the sweet offering. A grin curled his lips as he munched.

Nick inclined to say ever-so-quietly, “Bangs, the potential your pastries has on the streets of Zootopia can _ not _ be overstated.”

“I guess it’s just hard to believe that you can figure stuff out as much as you do, Nick,” the lion continued around the fudge and walnuts, “That kind of thing only seems to happen in detective stories.”

“All is forgiven,” the taller fox said in a manner both humble and righteous, paws raised and fingers crossed to make the sign of the four-leaf clover in the air towards the lion, but then continued in his normal tone, smirk, and posture, “Learned most of it from my dad, picked up the rest of it through the necessity of life. It took Judy a bit to come to grips with it, too, and  _ she  _ used to test my ‘powers of deduction’ for her own entertainment but has since matured. Not that I fault her, though.”

“Speak o’ the devil,” Gideon coined, ears flicking as he craned his head over a shoulder, knowing the sound of his own van anywhere, “Here they come now.”

“Quick, hide the brownies!” Nick urged, “They’ll only want some, too.”

Up rolled the pink vehicle with two pairs of bunny ears poking out from behind the dashboard (and a set of hazel eyes peering through the wheel), coming to a full stop in the nearest parking spot. Out hopped Judy, her ensemble so unlike her usual tomboy self but she was as vibrant as ever with an energetic, “Hi!” and a wave to match. Bo hopped out from the other side and beamed seeing the lot of them gathered, and then returned the baker his van with an underhand toss of the key.

“I can’t be sure, Hoss, but you might have an issue with the steering,” Bo said.

“Yeah, I keep meanin’ to get that checked…” Gideon rued, “Drove well enough, though?”

“Oh, certainly.”

From Judy’s thumb was a glistening piece flicked, arching towards Nick’s head but deftly caught. She stood otherwise quiet in her expectancy as he examined his palm, and then held up a small, green trinket bearing the shape of a four-leaf clover to the light. Lanny queried Judy with a glance, only to receive an arching brow and a smirk.

Nick looked between the bunnies as he tumbled the bauble back-and-forth along his knuckles in a quiet grunt, “So…. questions,” Nick poised, and when Judy’s anticipatory moan permitted, “Are we calling him ‘Graham’ or ‘Grav’?”

“Told ya’,” she chuckled to Bo and then answered her partner, paw on her cocked hip, “‘Graham’, but that’s just me.”

“I  _ see _ ,” Nick said and held up the clover between his fingers, “Punch, what is  _ this _ called? Just the name will be fine.”

“ _ Ah _ , a ‘Fourth-Leaf Cloven’,” the earthen rabbit contentedly informed.

“That would explain this line, then, as though it were  _ cleaved _ . Very well,” the taller fox abided, “I’ll do this once and  _ only _ once more, Carrots.”

“He  _ always _ says that,” she smugly relayed to the others.

“I mean it this time.”

“He always says  _ that _ , too.”

“What is it, then?” Lanny asked.

“Yeah, don’t leave the rest of us in the dark,” Gideon agreed.

Nick explained with all due pomp and circumstance allowed him, but still speaking in a low tone to not attract unwanted attention, “Graham’s sticking it to the authority that is his villainous father, and he wants Carrots here to know that he’s on her side.”

Bo grinned wide and let out a satisfied whistle as he exchanged a pleased grin with Judy. “It’s just like you said, Gloves, she made an ‘adversary into an asset’,” he reported with an encouraging swing of his fist.

“ _ Did  _ he?” Judy groaned, “Please stop saying that, Slick, you know I don’t care for it.”

“I will if, and  _ only  _ if, it stops happening,” the taller fox leered and flicked the bauble back to her.

“Hold up,” Lanny demanded, “Wasn’t Grav some kind of psychopath, like,  _ yesterday _ ?”

“He  _ was _ ,” Judy timidly admitted, paw pulled from her pocket after securing the clover, “but I feel there’s… ‘room for improvement’, we’ll say.”

“Then that bunny’s on a kind of… whatcha-calls-it…” Gideon considered.

“A ‘probationary period’?” Judy suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Your questions didn’t have anything to do with your answer, though,” Lanny challenged, “In fact… they sounded completely arbitrary.”

“What, no ‘Basil of Baker Street’ jab? I guess I’ll let it pass, for now,” the taller fox snerked, “It’s simple, really. First, Graham has the habit of using hidden, archaic symbols to send messages, everyone here can attest to that; he more than likely pulled a switcheroo to hide it in that extra-large bunny shirt Punch is  _ wearing  _ but does not  _ own _ , what with its  _ new _ stretch marks around the chest and  _ old _ stretch marks around the waist. Second, that ‘Fourth-Leaf Cloven’, I think it was called, can only be some kind of ‘edgy’ reinterpretation of the widespread  _ intact  _ four-leaf clover that I saw on Magnus’s lapel Sunday night, as a singular example. Third, Graham hates his dad almost as much as he loves Judy; dinner, dress, jewelry, helicopter ride with the Felix himself, all so that he can take away the  _ one _ thing that Magnus could’ve held up and said was a success from this otherwise  _ failure _ of an evil plot: Judy herself. Now, I wouldn’t say this  _ absolves _ Graham, but it’s nice to know that we have someone on the inside, no doubt yucking it up at the breakfast table as we speak.”

Nick arched his brow and jut his jaw at what  _ should _ have been fawning adoration for another swiftly delivered deduction, but was instead met with Bo rubbing the back of his neck and Judy her arm. “Or… is at least  _ recovering _ from whatever retribution he faced?”

“We know he made it through the night,” she said.

Lanny grunted uncomfortably. “My sympathies, Judy. I’ve never met the guy, but that phrase crops up enough times for me to know what it means,” the nurse said, “What happened to him, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Officially?” the gray bunny resolved, bristling in the slightest way with indignation directed at  _ no _ one present, “Magnus says he got into a ‘car accident’ but  _ I _ know better, and you can bet dollars-to-donuts that Graham’s lackeys do, too… That ‘uncle’ of mine probably  _ staged _ it to make it look authentic.”

“‘Car accident’, huh,” the lion said, darkly, “and this Magnus joker is his  _ dad _ ?”

“ _ So! _ ” Nick interjected, sliding into Lanny’s immediate line of sight with a placating grin, “Dr. Honey’s probably wondering where we are right now, and I’d rather not make her any  _ more _ irate than she likely already  _ is _ .”

“Yeah,” Lanny agreed, deflating as he rubbed the bridge of his nose where a snarl was unknowingly formed, but only just deterred, “Let’s get you two tested, fill out a questionnaire, and then we just wait for the results,” he blandly explained. He squared his shoulders and breathed in, “Shouldn’t take  _ too _ long. C’mon,” and made a broad, gathering motion for Judy and Nick as he pivoted towards the clinic’s door. The smaller mammals present complied.

* * *

Esther’s text message whisked off into the ether with a telltale, digital fanfare, her reporting back to “Blue” after Lory dropped her off at the  Perk & Park to await Felix Lapis’s chauffeur. Paws wrapped loosely around a still-simmering mocha latte with an extra squirt of vanilla, and azure eyes hooded behind a tightly rounded pair of sunglasses. Nick’s request to sniff out some specific brand of cleaning wipes proved fruitless, as he suspected it would, and Esther wasn’t necessarily  _ dis _ pleased about that, but neither was she thrilled. Even if the knowledge of a caught Doug Ramses sufficed for her, the sniper without his rifle was like a driver without their car -- they might as well have half-a-mammal locked up in the sheriff’s office.  _ Ah well,  _ she accepted and sipped her coffee,  _ Everything in its own time. _

She felt tense and checked her phone again for the time… still some ways off until the Felix’s designated arrival, and by the exactness of the minute, felt confident in the claim. There was a lot to speak with him about,  _ quite  _ a lot, and she wouldn’t even be there for the entirety of the case, only handing it off to his own trusted legal team, along with a summary of events. Maybe Esther didn’t even need to get all “dolled up” as she was, but it was crucial to treat Felix Lapis like any other client, and all the professionalism that went along with it.

Long ears (for a fox) sprung at an approaching vehicle, though she knew for certain it was not  _ her  _ ride but her brother’s, in a sense, that silly pink van with only a pair of short ears (for a rabbit) sticking out of the driver’s seat. “Steering by their hearing”, Pa would sometimes say whenever he saw a rabbit behind a wheel clearly too large for them. Esther softly beamed, thinking on “Sweet Tea” and “Chuck”, her nicknames for Judy and Bo respectively, and continued to beam as she thought on her brother, whose van then putted along towards the local clinic. She did not bother to wave, knowing they likely couldn’t see her and instead continued to wait and reflect…

_ Giddy… _ How many times… How many times over the years did he try to tell her what was wrong and she wouldn’t listen? Some “sly vixen” she turned out to be. “You scratch yourself at night”,  _ indeed _ . Esther scoffed at her own normalcy bias, cheek bracing a fist as she wondered what she overlooked,  _ dismissed _ that would stand out as a cry for help… there were plenty, sure, but none that weren’t so easily rationalized.

Maybe it should have been a dead giveaway when his angst and awkwardness extended well past his teenage years, that something wasn’t  _ right _ . That her little brother, whom she loved and raised and bantered with, had changed  _ so _ drastically from a sweet-as-sugar kit to a rough-as-sandpaper bully… And yet… it didn’t seem like he changed at all back then, just took a long while to bloom, and acted out for attention.

Like he always lived in her shadow.

Esther, despite the fox flu giving her pneumonia as a kit, excelled in whatever she put her mind to. Grades, friends, sports… she seemed to do no wrong. Giddy… had  _ a _ friend, to the best of her knowledge (which turned out to be something of a plant, an idea that bristled her fur), and was seen tagging along with a different group every now and then, before Travis came along, at least. He always struggled in school, and never could run very fast or very far, didn’t pounce or climb much, heavyset almost all his life…

She did love when he whittled, though. One of her prized possessions was a small, wooden fox figure he made for her (she even had it lacquered), and it seemed like there was a new etching  _ somewhere  _ in the house or on the fence outside, each and every day. And he could always find his way home; no matter how deep into the woods he ventured, he could find his way out again, better than other foxes or wolves she knew… What stories he told, too… not that he was very  _ good _ at telling them, but they were certainly fantastic enough that it made one wonder where  _ he _ heard them.

Giddy came home after school one day, and it was obvious he’d been crying but was very tight-lipped about why, except that “He couldn’t help it, he’s a  _ fox _ _”,_ said in a none-too respectful tone, so Pa got mad and Giddy started crying again as he ran off into the woods to hide. He might as well have dropped off the face of the planet, for all the good looking for him did, at least until Ma walked right into those trees to retrieve her kit like it was nothing hard at all, saying that “Bein’ upset isn’t grounds for skippin’ supper”. It wasn’t the next morning that Travis Blackfoot began palling around with Giddy, which both Ma and Pa were happy for… If Esther knew at the time about that ferret’s duplicity, he would have never made it to high school… Nick’s vouching for his remorse notwithstanding.

Esther then thought on Lory, about how she  _ just so happened _ to show up when she did… and smirked at how flustered her brother was after the especially bumpy ride into town. After dropping the tods off, they talked about how she saw Giddy in the tractor-pull, admitting she was floored to see him from the waist up, and that there was “a bit more than plump showing through his plush” when he was tugging that tractor. The phrase made Esther flinch, of course, what with her recent discovery of what  _ really _ lurked under his fur, but as she was seated on the back of the scooter at the time, it allowed her to laugh along with the wolf’s ogling. Odd though it was to consider anyone vying for her younger brother like that, it was also…  _ apropos _ _,_ in a way, considering how much  _ she  _ was chased as a teenager. More than that, though, she was glad Giddy caught someone’s eye… maybe he could appreciate it better than  _ she _ ever did…

Up pulled a long black car (impeccably on time), stopping to idle in front of where Esther sat finishing her coffee. She stood and tossed her cup away in approach as a sharply dressed rabbit stepped from the driver’s seat to open the door for her… even if the door itself opened automatically, and the bunny need only brace it as she entered.

“Good morning, Ms. Grey,” Felix Oswald Lapis cordially greeted, wearing a suit the color of pitch (darker than his own fur, even) with a bright yellow tie.

“Oh, Felix Lapis, good morning,” Esther Grey greeted right back while removing her sunglasses, taking a seat across from him in the rather spacious car, sized as it was for someone closer to her height than his, “I wasn’t expecting to see you until arriving at your office.”

_ “ Well _ _,”_ he chortled, leaning back in his seat a bit with one leg crossed over the other, exceptionally tall ears gently swaying as the door closed and the vehicle continued on, smooth as a cloud, “I was hoping we could visit a bit before getting to actual  _ work _ _;_ I so rarely get a chance to just chitchat.”

“Is that why you removed the battery from your phone?” she asked, eyes directing her attention to the aforementioned mobile device missing its power source, sitting to the bunny’s immediate right.

“…Yes,” he answered, and slid it a little further away, “So, Esther, tell me, what am I to…  _ expect _ in this case against Magnus?”

“I thought you wanted to ‘chitchat’?”

“I wanted to talk off the record,” the black rabbit admitted, “I’ve  _ never _ seen him cornered before, but I  _ have _ seen what happens when it looks like his plans might fall through, and it kept me up last night.”

Esther’s arm reached to lie across the back of the seat, legs crossed at the knee as she studied the facing rabbit. “The long and short of it is, Magnus has his bases covered  _ outstandingly _ well, to the point that there is  _ no _ implication of his involvement with any sort of Night Howler drug. That said, a computer-savvy friend of Nick’s was able to trace a bank account used to pay for the unwitting test subjects to show up in Bunnyburrow yesterday. It’s a slew of technicalities but there are ironclad charges for selling without a permit, transporting undeclared commerce, and false advertising. Connecting all of  _ that _ to Magnus will be a cinch, and should validate a warrant for his more heinous crimes,” the vixen concluded. She patiently awaited a response that was clearly in the works.

“Mag and I play a lot of chess, and he usually wins,” the rabbit finally said, “He’ll get bored of playing computers, but not live opponents because he can talk to them, watch them, and tweak them during the game, usually with a running commentary, or a countdown to checkmate, and usually by way of ‘Fool’s Mate’; more often than not, it involves sacrificing his queen, or some other piece that he’s been running roughshod with over the board. He’ll  _ want _ you to take that piece because it sets up his win.”

“With all due respect, Felix Lapis, it makes one wonder why you put up with him  _ at all .” _

He smiled endearingly, “Please, call me ‘Oswald’, and if I ejected everyone from my life that was a jerk, I’d be out half my family,” he chuckled, “Do you understand what I’m trying to get at here, though?”

She hummed in thought. “You expect some kind of retribution, but not of the swift variety; he’s too conniving for that. If what Judy told me is any indication, you expect it to come from within your own company, or worse yet, your most inner circle.”

“I knew there was a reason Leodore chose  _ you _ to defend him,” Oswald commended.

The vixen sighed with a short, amused laugh, “I actually drew the short straw on that one, literally. Lionheart hired the  _ firm _ to protect his ‘Pack in Black’ since they needed individual defense for their individual actions during the Pred-Scare, and only wanted minimal representation for himself since he pleaded guilty, hoping to get his side of things out to the public via an impartial medium, such as the courtroom. Apparently, I knew how to ‘keep cool under pressure’, i.e., the reporters hovering right outside.”

The black rabbit blinked and then fidgeted, if ever-so-slightly. He groaned his confusion, “I was lead to believe that  Bagh & Little sent their hardiest against the DA in that trial…”

“The DA was supposed to handle the wolves,  _ not _ Lionheart,” Esther quietly, tremulously replied, glancing distractedly out a tinted window.

“Still, Conner Shere is the city’s  _ fiercest  _ prosecutor, and holding your own against him is no meager feat, Esther. There’s a reason his unspoken title is ‘Whom Buzzards Follow’, and not just for the poeticism.”

“I escaped by the skin of my  _ teeth _ _,”_ she dismissed, “if only because I somehow cast doubt on his objectivity, that he made his prosecution based on a vendetta against Lionheart.”

“Yes, I remember. The judge deemed it a mistrial when she found out that Conner had laid down an ultimatum against Leodore beforehand.”

Esther’s ear flicked. “That…  _ isn’t _ public knowledge.”

“Leo confided in me after the trial,” Oswald assured, “We go way back. He and Bucky were schoolmates all their lives, as you know, practically brothers.”

_ Leodore Lionheart, Buckley Stagmire, and Oswald Lapis… sounds like a right Good Ol’ Boys party… _ “Those are some mighty big names, especially for a simple farm-fox like me,” she teased, settling a bit more into the finely cushioned seat.

“Oh, no need for such modesty on account of me and my cribbage group,” the rabbit laughed, “Stars above, I’m the only one under eight feet amongst them, after all. Speaking of, I’m sure you know of Camelita Maracci?”

Esther’s eyes brightened. “Of course I do, she came out of retirement to choreograph Gazelle’s _T_ _ igritos _ … after that whole  _ Kazar _ fiasco,” the vixen punctuated with some malice, “That was of course after a three-decade career as Zootopia’s biggest concert dancer, a torch she proudly passed on.” Blue eyes studied the rabbit’s forming grin, “Don’t tell me she’s part of your ‘cribbage group’,  _ too ?” _

“In a sense,” he vaguely affirmed, “Camelita was one of the first advocates for the then rough-drafted Mammal Inclusion Initiative, a fiery and opinionated individual if ever there was one. Her influence helped give it feet, way back when Leo and Bucky were still formulating it at university and assembling the S/CARE. It would be the foundation for that Initiative, so it obviously needed  _ hard data _ from species and cultures of all kinds in order to defend them. But, umm… another question, if I may: have you ever called your father ‘old tod’?”

To say the vixen was taken aback by such an arbitrary question would have been understating, but Esther casually responded, “Only if I’m  _ especially  _ peeved at him, but most of the time he’s ‘Pa’.”

“Yes, as ‘tod’ is the term for a male fox. And you likely know that ‘buck’ is for a male rabbit or deer, and used as an endearment in the same way, if not ‘old bun’ for the former.”

“Okay?”

Oswald was still a moment longer, clearly calculating before his eyes returned to Esther. “Some months ago, while Magnus and I were playing chess, his tongue slipped and he called me ‘old guard’. I thought nothing of it then, and he made no attempt to correct himself that I can remember. Are you familiar with the phrase?”

“Y-…  _ Yes _ _?”_ she recalled, “It can denote an unwillingness to change one’s ways; demeaning, more often than not. But, you’re one of the more  _ forward _ _-thinking_ mammals in the city; your innovations in medicine speak for themselves.”

“Indeed, that’s why Bucky and I banded together to build Hexward, and why I contributed to his and Leo’s mayoral campaign, back in the day. I believe in their goal for equal justice, tolerance…” He stared a bit harder at Esther. “That a bunny can be brave, and a fox trusted.”

“…And, are you  _ brave  _ enough to  _ trust  _ me?” she probed.

“I trust you enough to want to hire you, Ms. Grey,” he said with a smile, gaze softening.

Esther responded first with a hard glance. “With all due respect, Felix Lapis, I’m too emotionally connected in this case to represent you, on top of which I am a  _ defense _ lawyer, not a prosecutor. Despite all we’ve just said about him, DA Shere would be a  _ much _ better-”

His snowy white paw raised for silence, “I’m aware of the red tape, and even you giving me whatever files you brought along would require legal documentation before any exchange can happen,  _ pro bono _ or not. That said, Ms. Grey,” Oswald continued, and then gestured respectively, _“_ _ I _ want to defend  _ you _ , and as someone in my employ, however temporarily, I  _ can .” _

Her blue eyes stared harder still. “Defend me… from  _ Magnus ?” _

“One of his associates,” the black bunny explained, “They say that ‘You can judge a mammal by the company they keep’. I keep the company of powerful individuals who are building toward a better Zootopia as best we can within the legal framework. My brother-in-law… keeps the company of some who -- I only found out last night when I actually bothered to pull my head out of the ground -- harbor some very  _ disconcerting  _ connections. You’ve already mentioned Professor William Kazar,” he pointed out, causing her ears and brows to flicker, “He was the primary and private academic tutor to my nephew, Grav, for most of his higher education; not for dance, but for history and other social studies. I didn’t approve, for reasons I’m sure you’re  _ well _ aware of,” he darkly insinuated, and Esther soberly nodded, _“_ _ But _ , he’s not  _ my  _ son.

“Everyone with an ear to the market knows that Magnus went into business with  Prideland Enterprises to ship his processed foods all across the city and nation.  _ I _ happen to know that this deal was handled  _ exclusively _ by Tycho King… and,  _ yes , _ his older brother Memphis and Leo were something like  _ rivals  _ back in high school, and close friends all through adulthood.” He smirked in his nostalgia, “I doubt you’re interested to know what it’s like to be in a room with three alpha males of  _ their  _ caliber… there were times I wouldn’t visit unless Camelita came along, she was as strong as the three of them combined, it seemed like…”

Esther sat stiffly in the momentary silence, trying to remain calm despite the shiver crackling up her spine. “I can’t help but notice a trend with the names you just mentioned,” she said, and continued when he looked expectant, “It  _ almost  _ sounds like each one of your ‘cribbage group’, yourself included, has  _ someone  _ lurking in their shadow.”

The Felix sighed and shrugged. “I  _ never _ considered Magnus as any rival of  _ mine _ , not until I found that secret partition on my server; I trust Judy explained all that already. As for Memphis and Tycho, I dismissed their friction as ‘another case of King Richard and Prince John’, but without the…  _ betrayal _ _,_ while I’m sure Kazar holds a grudge against Camelita for obvious reasons. To my knowledge, I’ve not heard of any duplicity, except for a curious coincidence that both Memphis and Camelita are currently  _ ill _ _._ Now, Leo and Bucky gathered trustworthy mammals that shared their ideals, and there are plenty more outside of this inner circle, but I want to bring your attention to  _ them _ _,_ specifically-”

“Whoa,  _ no _ _,”_ Esther halted, “Next you’ll tell me that Dawn Bellwether had tea with Magnus to cook up new and interesting ways to make predators suffer.”

Oswald looked nonplussed at first, but then rolled his eyes and sat back a bit. “Fair point, Dawn was  _ literally _ in Leo’s shadow when she became assistant mayor, and of course setting up the Pred-Scare so that he would take the fall. In her defense,” he urged, to which Esther patiently listened, “Dawn advocated rights for  _ all _ mammals several years ago, it’s why she was such an ideal fit to be Leo’s next assistant mayor after Bucky’s paralysis, and why her treachery was such a monumental  _ shock _ _._ But no, to the best of my knowledge, Magnus has no connection with her… at least  _ directly .” _

When she reconsidered the possibilities, Esther then suggested, “Vincenzo Corlione, the ‘King of the Jungle’ himself, perhaps? He’s always been the shadowy type and was the ‘Mr. Big’ of the Rainforest District, up until the mayor before Lionheart was brought in for corruption, and thus the swamp drained. Not to mention  _ also _ being a lion, he might see Lionheart as a rival, too, except the unfriendly type.”

The rabbit groaned his uncertainty. “Not that  _ I’ve _ heard, and I’ve kept both ears out for  _ him _ _._ Rather, do you know about  _ Cyrus _ Bellwether, Dawn’s late brother?”

The vixen’s brow furrowed, face turning away though her eyes kept trained on her host, “I’ve  _ heard _ about him, and that he died in an industrial accident that nearly took his head clean off.”

Oswald shifted in his seat. “When he was alive, Cyrus was  _ quite  _ the polar opposite of his sister, upholding such  _ inflammatory _ ideology as ‘History’s Oldest Lie’,” he said significantly.

“What,” Esther coldly responded, “that ‘Predators were ever  _ really _ in control’?”

The Felix nodded grimly. “He wanted to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that predators could  _ snap _ at any minute, all they needed was the ‘right trigger’. He sought to recruit my sister Clea, a respected neurologist and psychiatry hobbyist, top of her field before she was  _ shanghaied  _ into Cliffside for predator therapy…” he fumed, and by the clenching of his jaw, began grinding his metaphorical ax, “Despite her breadth of knowledge for  _ all  _ species, Clea dealt with small prey patients exclusively because she was  _ far  _ too delicate to interact with larger or predator patients. So, they instead used her as a  _ litmus test _ _,_ like if  _ she _ could last a conversation without fainting, then  _ anyone _ could.” He huffed apologetically, “Sorry, went off on a tangent there…”

“I completely understand,” Esther promptly forgave, wholly empathetic to the drive of protecting one’s flesh-and-blood, especially a younger sibling.  _ Even if it wasn’t in the same capacity, could Clea have been a victim of pred-therapy, too, used only for her credentials and weak constitution? If so, is it possible that she gained notoriety only because she was the last thing those poor, broken predators saw before leaving Cliffside?  _ Esther pondered, _ I’ve heard rumors hinting at such, but never got confirmation, especially from someone as in-the-know as Oswald. I need to get this information to Nick and Judy… _

“I can’t say for certain, but I have reason to believe that Cyrus had connections reaching  _ far  _ outside of Zootopia,” he continued with growing caution, “Far to the  _ south _ _.”_ Esther felt less and less comfortable as the car ride progressed towards the town proper of Bunnyburrow, and so the black bunny’s face set as he sat up. “My helicopter pilot is a species of fox that originates from there, and though you and he are dissimilar in both color and size, I know you can make the same claim.”

As she was no longer reclining, the vixen also sat upright. “You are correct. Goliath Grey and I are a species known as the ‘maned wolf’, or locally as  _ ‘aguará guazú’ _ , the ‘large fox’,” Esther professionally explained, “A rather  _ rare _ breed of canid, at least  _ this  _ far north.”

“Not ‘rare’,” Oswald corrected, _“_ _ Unheard of _ to be this far north. I would rather deem you  _ unique _ in the city of Zootopia.”

She bristled indignantly. “Felix Lapis, just how much do you think you know about me or my species?”

The air inside the car grew dense, heavy before he sighed and rubbed his fingers together. “Would I be safe in assuming your mother was, or is,  _ also  _ a maned wolf?” Esther’s claws dug silently into her book bag as her eyes shifted from blue to gray. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. So, not a hybrid like your brother Gideon, and yet fully matured you are no taller than the average fox, while your  _ father  _ stands shoulder-to-shoulder with wolves. One reason that springs to mind is that you were neglected the precious nutrients of the  _ solanum lycocarpum _ _…_ or as it’s colloquially known, the ‘wolf apple’.”

Gray eyes snapped back to blue and claws unlocked from the casing of Esther’s bag, both breath and speech catching in her throat. “How much…  _ do _ you know…?”

“I know your species is not isolated by choice, Esther, nor arbitrarily,” Oswald calmly explained, and then pulled from his own briefcase a single sheet of paper. “Do you recognize this mammal?” he asked, reaching as far across the car as he could to hand it over.

Understandably, Esther paused before accepting the paper, regaining her composure as she snapped her wrist and straightened the image out.  _ A llama…? Pa told me about how he escaped slavery from a powerful family of llamas, stealing me away after my mother died in childbirth… how it was a miracle that he made it to the free-city of Zootopia at all… Is this what he feared all my life… that they would find him again… would find me? _

“You…  _ do _ recognize him, then.”

Esther gently shook her head in answer, and then returned the printed photograph. “No… I can only surmise that he comes from the drug empire of ‘Reino Del Sol’, that he’s likely paying Zootopia a visit sometime soon, and that he is most certainly connected with Magnus Hopps in some way, no doubt this new Night Howler drug that has been a pox upon me and my loved ones. But… I cannot for the life of me surmise as to  _ why _ the Felix would risk an international incident to protect a single runaway slave and his daughter, even if a generation has passed since their escape.”

Oswald slipped the picture back into his briefcase and then folded both paws upon crossed knees. “History tells that King Richard appointed the first Felix to bless the farms of his kingdom so that they might grow in abundance to feed not only his citizens but his marching soldiers as well. In that way, we rabbits were an integral, if indirect part of his Crusades to free and protect enslaved mammals from their oppressors,” he explained, “Centuries later there is still slavery in the world, but it hides behind international jurisdiction that I, as little more than a glorified landlord, can do  _ nothing  _ about… except declare that ‘If you set foot on Bunnyburrow soil, then by the powers vested in me by the city-state of Zootopia, you are hereby  _ freed _ _’,”_ the rabbit said with conviction, _“_ _ That _ was a legal battle which took several Felixes to win, let me tell you, a battle which would have been fought in  _ vain _ if I couldn’t protect a single runaway slave and his daughter. I’ll deal with any international incident as necessary,” he punctuated with a smirk, “After all; I know a few powerful mammals myself.”

Blue eyes blinked away the glassy tears as they smiled along with her face. “Thank you, Oswald… I don’t know what kind of claim they can have on my or Pa’s life, not after thirty-four years, but… to know that someone’s got our backs… it’s more than I can ever hope to repay.”

A white paw rose again. “This is my duty to any denizen of Bunnyburrow, Esther, and I would not accept even a  _ dime  _ in recompense.”

Her clawed fingers drummed on the bag in thought, before opening it up and reaching inside, “Perhaps… but one thing that I can exchange comes to mind…”

“Ms. Grey, please, it wouldn’t feel right to accept-” the rabbit began, stopping when he saw that she didn’t pull out her wallet or phone, “Oh, that’s the book Judy had with her,” he curiously observed. His brow quirked as the vixen held out the black-bound item, and so continued as he leaned in to receive it, its cover darker even than his suit, “She made no mention of what it was, and honestly seemed rather spooked that she even had it.”

“She entrusted it to me last night, and I’ve already read it through. I don’t think Judy would object to my giving it to  _ you _ _,_ though,” the vixen said, and then asked, “No… inkling as to what it might be?”

“I can reason easily enough that Grav -- Graham, Grav, I’ll need to ask my nephew which he prefers when I visit him tonight -- gave it to her yesterday. He carries a similar book with him that he likes to test his siblings’ loyalty with; never could figure out if he wanted them to return it or  _ not _ _,_ but then, I’m not his therapist,” the black rabbit chuckled, “We’ll assume I should have myself a gander inside, then?”

“That might be the easiest way to explain it…”

“Alrighty,” he abided, and cracked it open somewhere in the middle to scan a page, and then another page, and half of a third page before snapping it shut disapprovingly to hold it out, “What  _ is  _ this?”

“According to Judy, the ‘unabridged version’,” Esther plainly answered.

Oswald stared blankly and blinked, glower unchanged.

“Have you read the book that Grav carries around with him?”

“I…  _ have _ _._ I’ve also seen the  _ original _ kept in his private collection, but he  _ said  _ that most of the pages were damaged beyond repair and thus ‘illegible’,” the rabbit blandly recounted. “What utter  _ bunk _ _,”_ he suddenly scoffed, derisively tossing the book onto the seat beside a stunned Esther, “Poppycock, says I, nothing but fanciful drivel and  _ clearly  _ the work of an overactive imagination,” the Felix loftily decided.

“But-?”

“Complete and utter  _ drivel _ , Ms. Grey,” he enunciated with an authoritative jab, his eyes locking with the vixen’s but not in an accusatory manner. Without a doubt, the Felix must have been one of the few rabbits who knew  _ how _ to communicate with foxes.

_ Oh… methinks this is not supposed to exist,  _ Esther realized and promptly inserted the book deep into her bag. “Of course, how positively silly of me. I apologize for wasting your time with it, Felix Lapis.”

He nodded with a dismissive wave of his paw, and then sat back, “Actually… I might have a task for you. I’ll be having the opal-jeweled carcanet that Judy wore yesterday appraised for its authenticity, and then safekeeping later today, pending its return to Hopps Manor. McTwisp, he’s my go-to-bunny for this kind of thing, will be handling the process but I would like  _ you _ to accompany him,” Oswald requested lightheartedly, “It can get a bit boring, so I suggest you bring something to  _ read _ _._ Now then,” he continued, and picked up his phone and accompanying battery, “I think I’ve ignored some other obligations long enough. Would you mind if I…?” he asked, gesturing one item with the other.

“Oh no, go right ahead,” Esther allowed, and pulled out her own phone with a smile, “I’ll just occupy myself with a few rounds of  Sugar Rush , maybe play with a few  _ friends _ _.”_ When the two of them were then on their respective devices after exchanging smirks, the vixen pulled up her messenger and readied a text to both Judy and Nick about her recent discoveries,  _ Pa said those llamas wanted the wolf apple plant but he never understood why... only that it was grown solely by the maned wolf villages way down south… Could it somehow be involved in this new drug…? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lanny's ruminations came from Trustworthy, chapter 25 and Brave, chapter 19; the one about his end-of-life nurse training has not yet been brought up in the story, however.
> 
> [“Yeah, anything sounds bad when you say it with that attitude.”] is burrowed from the Kuzco in "The Emperor's New Groove".
> 
> ["‘adversary into an asset’"] comes from Brave, chapter 19 and I think reflects well Judy's influence on others from the movie (i.e., namely, her effect on not only Nick but Gideon as well, and one could argue, Chief Bogo).
> 
> Nick mentions "Basil of Baker Street" as a reference to when his 'Dawson' (whence the reference is made) called him as such (and alluding to how others have also done but off-screen).
> 
> For more information as to why Gideon came home crying as a kit, refer to Trustworthy, chapter 24 and Brave, chapter 3.
> 
> ["selling without a permit, transporting undeclared commerce, and false advertising"] You might recall these familiar charges as the ones Judy tried to get on Nick when she first discovered his hustling.
> 
> The [‘Pack in Black’] is a great name as thought up by my dear friend and fellow author, NieveLion, from his own stupendous Zootopia fanfic, "To Mend a Broken Hart"; also borrowed from his story are Lionheart's intent during the trial, to plead guilty and present his case on neutral ground, the mobster lion character Vincenzo Corlione, and the ungulate villain, Cyrus Bellwether. It's on the site, so go give it a read (you won't be disappointed).
> 
> [Conner Shere] references Shere Khan from the movie, "The Jungle Book".
> 
> [Camelita Maracci] is a Zootopian reinterpretation of Carmelita Maracci, famed dancer and singer from decades past. I wanted to include another prey but also a female in this group of big predator guys, but also a species that isn't often seen in Zootopia. To align with the story, I wanted her to be something of a predecessor to Gazelle and eventually found Carmelita Maracci; the character practically wrote herself after that and her... vivacity fit nicely with what I wanted from this character. Additionally, "Tigrito" is a name I've heard for the tiger dancers and think it, too, is rather fitting.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	5. Chapter 5

The Brambles Emergency Clinic (to which the locals prefer the fancier title of “Preds’ Corner General Hospital”, akin to the one in Bunnyburrow proper) boasted one the newer bits of construction in that humble wedge of farm life: its entryway, complete with patient drop-off zone (in which Bo was careful not to park, of course). Its original intent is known mainly by residents both temporary and previous, such as Lanny and Gideon respectively, as a gathering of “healing houses” before modernity brought it up to code. Nurse Wild (though not currently in his scrubs) ushered the group through reception, the waiting area and into the testing rooms; all were largely empty save for sparse patients (of note, identifiably Knotash rabbits voicing some concern about sterile environments in the most polite, backhanded way possible, or one of the very few residents that had not gone on the Caribouan Cruise with the rest of the Corner). The astute would recognize purposeful amenities of a primarily predator population, such as the open lower backs of chairs for the free movement of long tails, thick wood in the arms and legs of furniture (with accompanying claw marks), and the overhead lights’ default lower setting than, say, those in the main Bunnyburrow hospital.

After passing the front desk, whereat a temporary rabbit worker hired by Hexward handled a family dreading the possibility of malaria, Nick began an inquiry, “I understand why  _ I _ and  _ Carrots _ here are checking in,” gesturing to himself and Judy, “Even Bangs and Freight have solid enough reason to tag along,” he continued, and then addressed Bo, “And not that I don’t enjoy your company, but…?”

The local Watch Member stuck out his chest proudly with a single, decisive thump of his fist, “I’ve been assigned to the Brambles team to keep an eye on  _ you _ ,” he reported with a flick of his finger, “You caused  _ quite _ a stir yesterday convening with ravens, and Mr. Barley wants to be  _ triply _ sure that nothing else comes of that… either to  _ or _ from you.”

“Felix Lapis reached out to the local Watch while discussing an early departure for the Knotash bunnies,” Judy extrapolated, “Apparently they have had  _ quite _ enough of country life.”

“Something I can sympathize with,” Nick said under his breath, “All this fresh air is making my head spin.”

“And I’m only here long enough to drop off these brownies,” Gideon relayed, “then it’s the road for me.”

“I’m sure she’ll like them,” Lanny commented, a bit brighter than he was a few minutes prior, “Dr. Honey is very  _ tense _ right now, and could do with something sweet.”

“Then riddle me this,” Nick countered, “How do you still have your head  _ not _ bitten off after what happened yesterday? I figured being out of contact for as long as you were would warrant some kind of badger-based decapitation.”

The lion’s shoulders shook with some light chuckling, “I almost  _ was _ . She thought I was out nighthowling, nipping, drinking… you  _ name _ it she thought I was doing it. But when I was honest and told her that I was hiding from the Lookers, she turned out to be…  _ amazingly _ sympathetic. All I got was a scolding for not keeping a tight enough grip on my phone.”

“Is ‘nipping’…?” Bo whispered to Judy.

“Catnip,” Judy whispered to Bo.

“Yeah, she’s a devout believer in self-preservation,” Nick vaguely concurred, “Among…  _ other _ things.”

“You know Dr. Honey?” Lanny asked of the taller fox on approach of a glass door leading to the “Lab Work” area, standing vigil to keep the portal open while the others walked with ease beneath his outstretched arm.

“Slick here can read mammals like an open book, probably watched her interview and figured out everything down to her preferred brand of dental floss,” Judy proudly reported with a swift but downy backhand of his arm, “I wasn’t kidding when I said he’d make a decent detective.”

“And he knows ev’ryone,” Gideon added, “Says so on his business card.”

“Stop,  _ stop _ , I’m blushing,” Nick said, “Look at me I’m red as a beet.”

“One might even say… well _ -read _ ,” Bo quipped.

The group burst with a momentary, staggering round of chuckling or groaning, depending on the individual, and then Nick barked a high laugh as he raised his palm towards the brown rabbit, “Okay, Punch, not bad. Up high.”

“Nick,” called a not-yet-yelling voice that seemed to weigh upon the air, draining it of the joviality until only a concrete, no-nonsense atmosphere remained. Outside the testing room stood one Dr. Madge Honey-Badger, who was no longer cowering back at Cliffside under the patience-waned snarl of one then-mayor Leodore Lionheart. She stood tall, resolute, and steely-eyed (in both color and demeanor), and while still wearing the white coat and teal scrubs of her profession, she also wore the multiple earrings and bright red collar of her ambition.

“Madge,” Nick said simply, hunched though he was and looking as disinterested as possible, paws shoved into his pockets to further emphasize his opinion on the situation.

“Or… he  _ actually  _ knows her,” Judy coolly judged, shifting weight to one leg, “which would explain why you went to get that  _ coffee _ from the employee break room the night we nabbed her.”

“And maybe we’d only just finished drying off after a fifty foot dive into a river, so I needed something warm and caffeinated,” he casually argued.

“Hi, Dr. Honey-Badger,” Judy said politely and amiably.

“Judy,” Madge answered in that same, stark tone. Neither  _ his _ wiles nor  _ her _ congeniality would work in the same way they always had, not with  _ that _ badger, and it was only then did  _ she _ reach the same conclusion as  _ he _ . Madge approached and held out two plastic cups, one for each of them and significantly different in sizes, “You know what to do with these,” she then nodded towards a pair of doors, “Bathrooms are over there, fill it up to the line, and don’t wash your paws or flush.”

“You got it,” Nick complied, with a half-cocked smile and a sweep of his tail, “Pardon me, gents, I’ve some business to take care of.”

“Thank you,” continued Judy’s politeness, likewise turning on a heel with a very slight billowing of her dress.

Madge crossed her arms and looked expectantly at the three remaining, until her gaze met with Bo’s. “What?” she asked his put-off expression.

“With all due respect, Dr. Honey-Badger, I doubt that rudeness was warranted.”

“ _ ‘Rude’ _ ?”

“Here we go…” Lanny muttered under his breath.

“ _ I _ have been nothing but a  _ doormat _ to those uptight Knotash bunnies out there,” she nearly growled, “Do you know how many cases I’ve filed for the  _ plague _ this weekend alone? No, likely  _ not _ , but I’m sure you can guess how many of them actually  _ were _ .”

“None,” Bo resolutely inferred, standing against her indignation still.

“And don’t get me started on their allergies, or the flu, or tetanus, or mange, or  _ rabies _ ,” she rattled on, although at that point didn’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular, “All of that and  _ more _ , these bunnies think you can catch just by  _ hearing _ about it.” Madge then laughed a cruel, hollow laugh, “And  _ please _ , I’ve been  _ more _ than polite whenever someone asks me for a  _ tooth _ so that they can place a bet. Oh, and  _ yesterday _ , when the  _ Lookers _ stampede into town because Nick  _ Flippin’ _ Wilde got them here, I think I can have a little slack in how I treat him, yeah? But let’s not forget that  _ Doug Ramses _ was only a few blocks  _ that _ way!” Madge barked as a finger stabbed the air.

“Ma’am-”

“Don’t ‘ma’am’  _ me _ , Briar, and don’t ‘that’s rude’ me, either. I was never at the end of his scope, so far as I  _ know _ , but I’ve dealt with Ramses’s victims, so I think I can be just a  _ bit _ on edge when hearing that he’s at it again,” she bristled, “There’s no news that anyone was  _ shot _ , thank goodness-”

Gideon muffled a reflexive cough.

“I suppose  _ you _ have something to add to this conversation, Gideon?”

“W- _ Well _ ,” he answered, and idly scratched his arm, “I was shot at-at- _ at _ ,” the stouter fox quietly reasoned, and then held up his paw and pinched his claws together, “He, umm, hit a little cassette tape between my fingers, to-to-to show he meant business…”

The snarl which Madge seemed so confident of retracted into a wide-eyed, slack-jacked grimace, lips suddenly pursing as her eyes zipped to either Lanny or Bo for confirmation.

“It’s true,” Bo reported, “You might’ve heard about a  _ kidnapping _ yesterday morning, instigated by Ramses and his cohorts to ensure Gideon complied in that whole mess with the Night Howler.”

“Now, I been shot at bef-before, what with misfires when huntin’ for fowl and such,” he calmly related, even with his stutter, “but I’m still a bit twitchy next to win-windows.”

The badger seemed to recalibrate with a succinct throat-clearing, at which point both bathroom doors opened as Nick and Judy sauntered out to impeccably interrupt the silence.

“And  _ there _ , one urine sample ready for testing,” Judy said, handing her plastic cup over to Dr. Honey, who was visibly grateful for the distraction.

“Make that  _ two _ samples,” Nick pointed out, also handing his over, “I went well past the line, though. Was it okay to do that?”

“It’s fine, yeah,” Madge answered, passing the two questionnaire sheets she had to Lanny before accepting the cups, and then nodded at the wall, “Help yourselves to some sanitizer, I’ll get these going while Lanny runs through those questions with you. I developed them myself after the Pred-Scare, based on user testimonies of their own experiences with Night Howler as a recreational narcotic. It’ll give me a rough idea of how far along your body has metabolized the drug.”

“Took you long enough,” Lanny remarked of the city-cops, smirking as he received the sheets of paper, “Did you fall in?”

“Madge’s voice carries, not sure if you noticed,” the taller fox said as reached up to utilize the mounted dispenser to lather his claws, fingers, and pads with the slick liquid, vigorously rubbing until it disappeared and then shaking both paws, “and while I wouldn’t call it ‘hiding’, I  _ would _ call it ‘tactical reemergence’.”

“I’m just not used to wearing a dress, yet,” the gray rabbit unabashedly admitted in an endearing grin, “but I’m always up for a new challenge.” She, likewise, reached for a spurt of sanitizer but while being hoisted by the brown rabbit, and then mimicked her partner’s actions to thoroughly disinfect her paws. As casually as could be, Bo then sat and braced her on his shoulder as she crossed her legs at the knee, plenty comfortable sitting eye-to-eye with her partner on the force.

Gideon leaned to glance at the exchanged papers, chuckling despite himself as he adjusted his tote bag, “Hey guys, she’s got the ‘Dawson’ question on there.”

“Which what?” the lion asked, inclining towards Gideon so that he could point it out, and then read aloud, “‘Did/Do you have any free-acting hallucinations?’…”

“What’s ‘Dawson’?” the badger immediately asked, turning away from a counter whereupon she set the urine samples to directly address the city-cops, who were exchanging a slight case of nervousness.

“Carrots, if you would.”

Judy coughed quietly, “‘Dawson’ is… the product of a hallucinogenic substance mixed with a framework of memory exercises and an implanted concept.”

Nick then continued at the harder stare from the badger, “I had an imaginary friend for about two days, who like a homeless guy on the bus, sat too close and had the nasty habit of ranting about things that were balls-to-the-wall crazy, even for a  _ fox _ . Me and Bangs were talking about it after I flipped out from a particularly  _ nasty  _ episode, which  _ she  _ overheard; said episodes were sporadic throughout the day, and as best I can figure, have spontaneous triggers. So, y’know, all kinds of concrete data.”

“Stretch thought a bunch o’ trees gave him visions of the  _ future _ .”

“I had  _ very _ little evidence to suggest otherwise, and it was the best way to explain what happened after I was thrown from the truck. ‘Concussion’ notwithstanding.”

“A  _ ‘concussion’ _ ?” Dr. Honey repeated, “How long ago was this? Have you had an MRI, yet?”

Nick paused to choose his words. “It was really more of a… an  _ emotional _ trauma than any sort of…  _ physical _ … My night vision was on the fritz, granted, but only until I sang a lullaby that my hallucinations said to-”

Judy clapped a paw over his mouth. “There hasn’t been anything since Sunday.”

“Lanny, put your scrubs on and take care of these,” she instructed the lion while pointing at the urine samples, “I’ll warm up the MRI machine.”

“Wait a sec, so why didn’t  _ I _ get scanned last night?” the bewildered Nurse Wild asked.

“Because an MRI isn’t covered by the city’s rehab initiative, but if there was a  _ head injury _ , then a brain scan is more than justified,” she hurriedly explained.

“Okay, I think I see the confusion here,” Nick soothed endearingly, “I  _ didn’t _ hit my head when I was thrown from the truck, I landed in a nice, comfy, pile of leaves. Any pain I experienced was more of a… a  _ sinus _ headache, so there’s no need to rev up a  _ very _ expensive piece of medical equipment for something trivial.”

Bo tossed a thumb between himself and Judy, “We gave him a once-over for any injuries after we recovered him, but there were no bruising or abrasions, much less breaks or concussions. Gloves is a  _ very _ lucky fox, in that regard,” he explained to a sagely nod from the rabbit on his shoulder. “It’s actually kind of funny because he was  _ less _ injured after being thrown a hundred feet at Mach 1 than Lanny was when Hoss dropped a bucket on his head,” he explained, pointing to Nick and then Gideon, whose reactions were varying degrees of placid disappointment.

“‘ _ Injured’ _ ?” Madge vaguely repeated, her attention ever-so-gradually shifting towards a petrifying lion.

“I checked  _ him _ out, too-” Bo began.

“Bobo,” Judy conversationally tried.

“And sure, there’s a  _ bump _ ,” the brown rabbit continued.

“Punch,” Nick said out of the corner of his mouth.

“But only a  _ teeny _ bit of blood, which scabbed over quickly.”

“Boulder,” Gideon sighed.

Bo grunted curiously with a brow quirked in thought, “I thought I was ‘Chuck’?”

“ _ Thank you _ for bringing this to light, Bo,” Madge said and grinned sweetly, her paws folded in a very motherly manner, “Lanny?”

“Y-Yes, Dr. Honey…?”

“MRI room.  _ Now _ .”

“Y-Yes, Dr. Honey…”

Judy idly kicked her legs and pat the brown rabbit upon his head, who too little, too late realized that he was, perhaps, volunteering information. Bo set Judy down as he voiced his views on the matter in a form of rectification. “ _ But… _ the doctors over at Bunnyburrow General didn’t see anything abnormal on  _ my _ MRI when I was brought in after getting hit with a car, and I swallowed a fist-sized dollop of the stuff the day before.” Once again, Madge’s eyes bugged and jaw dropped. “ _ My _ fist,” he clarified and pointed to it, “and I regurgitated all of it, so my body didn’t have a chance to digest any.”

“It prob’ly has all  _ kinds _ a diff’rent effects on diff’rent mammals,” Gideon reckoned, perhaps in an attempt to help out, “Heck, I had little tastes of it throughout a whole day when I was makin’ it; must’ve been at least a week since that, too, if not more, so it’s all outta  _ my _ system, but I sure ain’t had no ‘Dawson’ buggin’  _ me _ .”

“Okay, draw up some extra drug tests for Bo and Gideon,” Madge urged the lingering lion, “I’ll meet you in the MRI room afterward.”

“But… I have work to get-get-get to!” Gideon argued.

“And I haven’t gotten approval for that, not according to Burrow Watch protocol, article-” Bo desperately began to recite.

“ _ I _ will talk with Payton about your ‘approval’,” Madge dully snapped, and then turned to the baker, “And I’m sorry, Gideon, I  _ am _ , but if the report I got from Sheriff Longmare is accurate, then this new drug can enter the bloodstream upon  _ ingestion _ , before it ever gets into the stomach. Its effects might need only  _ one drop _ under the tongue, and right now  _ you _ are our best source of data for any long-term effects.”

“ _ Whoa _ , okay, let’s calm down,” Judy insisted, touching a paw to each arm of Bo and Gideon in turn, “This won’t take long, just pee in a cup and then we’re done. Right, Madge?”

“I don’t know, maybe I should run some  _ blood _ tests, too, who knows what kind of havoc this drug is wrecking.”

“ _ Which _ ,” the gray rabbit insisted, “probably won’t take long,  _ either _ , at least on  _ our _ end of things.”

Bo groaned, “No, it  _ won’t _ , except now it’s going on my record with the Burrow Watch.”

“I’ll hafta let Mr. and Mrs. H know about this, won’t I…” Gideon dreaded.

“Guys, seriously,  _ chill _ ,” Nick intervened, “Let the badger doctor do her doctoring and her badgering, who by the way is doing  _ all _ the work.  _ You  _ two only have to aim, maybe get a prick in the arm and there we go.”

“Piece of cake,” Judy agreed.

“Thank you for summing that up, Nick,” Madge flatly said, once more turning to a despondent Bo and Gideon, “I’ll need the both of you to fill out some forms before I can do the drug test-  _ Oh  _ for-!” she barked, swatting the air at some young Knotash bunnies that snuck their way past the front desk, “Scram!”

“I’ll handle them,” the girl rabbit said with a twirl of her dress, allowing the badger to handle her own set of issues while she approached the intruding youth.

“Here, help yourself,” Gideon told Nick, handing off his tote bag fully, “but leave one or two, I guess,” and followed the doctor alongside Bo.

Left holding the bag, Nick glanced down at his sought after quarry, but found the thrill of the chase drained when it was so readily relinquished by no effort of his own. So, instead, he glanced up at the  _ still  _ lingering lion poring over a questionnaire, seated though he was with a cheek propped up onto a fist. “If I can guess which question you’re staring at, will you answer me truthfully?” the fox asked.

He was quiet for a bit, but Lanny did eventually respond after lowering the papers. “If I can guess what your guess is, can my answers be vague and cryptic?”

Nick smirked and then hopped up into an adjacent chair to scrounge around inside the tote bag, “Tou _ ché _ . So,  _ do _ you have a ‘Dawson’?” he asked discreetly, watching down one hall as Judy managed to draw every ounce of attention of the smaller bunnies solely onto her, and then down the other way where the farm boys sat with clipboards and their own form to fill out.

“I guess if that’s the name for him…  _ it _ , I mean, then I can’t say I  _ don’t _ .”

“It’s a ‘him’ for you, too, is it,” Nick mused as he pulled out two brownies, one for each of them, “Do you recognize him?”

“Not really…” Lanny thought aloud, accepting the brownie and munching it, and then smirked, “and I don’t know  _ many  _ snarky foxes.”

Nick chewed ever-so-slowly, “A ‘fox’, you say…?”

“Not  _ you _ , of course;  _ you’re _ not blue and glowing.”

The red fox slumped after releasing the tension he didn’t know he was holding. “A blue, glowing fox…”

“Yeah, from his tail to his ears, eyes, just…  _ everything _ is blue… a very  _ blue _ kind of blue, you know?” Lanny described.

“Obviously a hallucination, but not ringing any bells, off the top of my head.”

“Not familiar  _ at all _ ?” he asked with a forlorn quiet.

“I’m sure a jaunt through  Zoogle could pull  _ something  _ up, but I don’t frequently watch children’s cartoons, so no.”

Lanny grunted and licked his fingers of the fudge. “I already checked, but didn’t recognize anything on there.”

“Sounds like you were hoping you  _ would _ .”

“A little bit,” the lion admitted, “maybe a cubhood memory, but that’s wishful thinking…”

Nick paused. “Not…  _ many _ cubhood memories, then?”

The lion didn’t respond immediately, simply resting his chin in a palm as he studied Nick’s face. “You’ve got really green eyes, you know that?”

The fox patiently licked his own fingers clean of fudge. “So says my reflection.”

“My uncle had green eyes like yours,” he continued.

Nick looked up again, “‘Had’, huh?”

Lanny smiled sadly. “One of my ‘uncles’, anyway,” he air-quoted, “and one of my clearer memories, but I haven’t seen him in  _ years… _ not for lack of trying. A big, green-eyed lion… I’m sure I’d know his scent if I smelled it, though…”

“It doesn’t sound like this is an altogether  _ happy _ memory,” he observed by the lion’s wavering tone, “If you’d rather not go into it, I’d understand.”

“No, but… I don’t want to forget it either… not if he would know who my parents are…  _ were _ , I mean,” the lion muttered under his breath.

Nick sat and pondered with a slow breath, recalling the lion’s earlier reaction when he heard about one that was possibly staged, “Car accident?”

“Yeah.”

“Amnesia?”

“…Yeah; concussion,” he grunted, “All I remember is heat… but darkness, as if the sun was blotted out, and I couldn’t breathe, really thirsty… face-down in lots of wet, sticky red… and a train… My uncle carried me from it, kept asking my name to make sure I remembered it… but that was all I could ever remember. Other than that it’s a blur up until my teenage years, just a cub that got into a lot of trouble, in and out of hospitals… being alone for a long,  _ long _ time… Nick, you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Do I?” Nick denied, shaking and smacking his cheeks a bit, “Must’ve been that…  _ ghost _ that wandered by, doing ghost things with  _ no _ sense of public decency. Very rude.”

The lion pondered and folded his paws to tap his thumbs together lightly. “Car accident?” he inferred, the practiced empathy of his profession showing true.

The fox sighed and rubbed his eyes, “You could say that. I wasn’t  _ in _ it but the fire and smoke were there all the same,” he quickly explained but brightened up as his face lifted from his palm. “Oh, look, it’s Judy,” he said, and then added in a sing-song tone, “Hi Judy~ Who’re your little friends there?”

“Hi Nick,” she cheerily said on approach, and in tow were five small bunnies with dark tints of fur, all dressed up and standing behind her. “Say ‘hello’ everyone.”

“Hello!” they chimed, if not in unison, then certainly near enough.

“They have a  _ very _ important question for you, Nurse Wild,” she informed Lanny.

Lanny looked nonplussed, but grinned as best he could as his knuckles stretched the pelt of his clenching, still-interlocked paws, “Oh, yeah? And what would  _ that _ be?”

Judy seemed frozen in her amiability and awkwardly clapped one paw on the back of the other as they remained folded at her waist. “ _ Well… _ perhaps we should…  _ introduce _ ourselves first?”

“Gladly,” Lanny immediately responded, standing at his full, mountainous height, and whether he meant to or not, loomed over the fluffle. “Hello, my name’s Leonardo Baxter Wild, but you can call me ‘Lanny’. Not ‘Oswald’, or ‘Leodore’, or  _ ‘Simon’ _ ,” he introduced, his dark lips such a severe contrast to his  _ many _ bright teeth, despite grinning so politely as he punctuated his statement, “ _ Lanny _ .”

As soon as the overhead lights were on them again, Judy whipped around with another twirl of her dress. “ _ We _ have intruded on a  _ private _ conversation!” she declared in a manner both instructive and admonishing to the cowering bunnies, readily and evenly allocating blame for the six of them, “Which was  _ very _ naughty of us.” They were on the verge of sobbing at first, but in a manner that surely bewildered non-bunnies, the five Knotash kits shifted from mortal terror to shocked remorse. “And what do we say?” Judy prompted, performing another spin-and-twirl, paws holding either side of her dress in a curtsy, the two girls of the group following suit while the three boys bowed at the waist. “We’re very sorry,” Judy led with a choir of apologies to follow and all ears pinned back in proper technique, “thank you for your time.” Another, final spin and the gray rabbit clapped her paws, striding through the group and back towards the front desk, “Alright, everybunny, let’s return you to your parents…” she excitedly announced, followed by two rows of rabbits as she left.

The lion stood in a slump, shifting his weight to one leg with a sigh reminiscent of a train engine coming to a complete stop. “Do you think I was too harsh…?”

“Yes,” Nick answered unabashedly, “ _ but _ , bunnies are emotional critters, especially the littlest ones, so I doubt a big fella like you could’ve been anything  _ but _ intimidating, not when they so obviously struck a nerve.”

“Was it really that obvious…?”

“Yes,” Nick repeated, “I get the feeling you hold your name in much higher regard than most mammals, considering it might be the only thing tying you to your parents,” he pointed out, to which the lion scratched at his neck and glanced at the ceiling, “Since we’re on the topic, I would have figured ‘Lanny’ short for ‘Landon’, not ‘Leonardo’.”

Such an observation tickled Lanny lightly chuckle in the wake of his fleeting regret, “I  _ was _ ‘Lenny’ up until… I think high school, but there were  _ three _ other ‘Lenny’s in my class, one of which was a girl. The teacher called me ‘Lanny’ by mistake, and I guess the name stuck.” He glanced down and shuffled his feet as Judy reappeared, “Listen, Judy…” he began.

“Not even an issue,” she assured him, “I heard from some of the other bunnies that one of the Tenets revolves around the health of a lion that shares the name of royalty, or in the modern sense, someone of an elected position. Sincerely, you handled that  _ much _ better than I could’ve hoped for.”

“Never heard  _ that  _ one before…” he admitted, rubbing over his chin and mouth in thought, “I should… get to those drug tests, I think… I’m not really  _ supposed _ to since I’m already past my allotted hours out here, but it looks like Dr. Honey still needs all the help she can get.” With a gentle smile and wave, Lanny departed towards the nurse’s station to grab some extra scrubs for his duties.

Judy hopped up and plopped her cottontail beside Nick, who scooted over far enough to allow the space. “Brownie me,” she requested, although it hardly needed saying since one was already being pulled from the tote bag.

“You didn’t have the heart to tell him that he and Simon King have the same middle name either, ‘eh?” Nick guessed.

“Not with that vein on his forehead,” the rabbit said with a shrug as she munched, soon expressing her approval of the baked good with a smile and moan to match.

“Must be a lion name.”

“Must be,” she concurred, “Find out anything interesting?”

“You assume I would  _ pry _ ?”

“I assume correctly.”

“Fair enough,” Nick said, “Although really, he desperately needed  _ someone _ to talk to about it, so I was saddled with the role of emotional support  _ yet again _ …”

“You might actually get good at it, with enough practice.”

“Spare me,” he scoffed in good humor, “As for Lanny, he  _ also _ has a ‘Dawson’, and with it my sympathy, though in his case it’s a glowing, blue fox.”

“How…  _ curious _ .”

“Yes… what’s  _ really  _ curious is how a troubled, orphaned lion cub managed to stay Underland’s influence,” he said with some scorn, “but I reckon his ducking the Prince’s Guard inadvertently taught him to also duck  _ that _ fate. How _ ever… _ ”

“‘How _ ever _ ’…?” Judy queried.

“How  _ old _ would you say our dear Lanny is?”

“No older than Gid.”

“Same here. He described something that I really,  _ really _ hope I’m wrong on.”

“I can’t think of a time I ever liked hearing you say that, Slick…”

The fox thought a moment. “I’m sure you remember our bluest-of-blue-eyed Gideon’s few recollections of pred-therapy, only one of which was of a lion cub of common name. Well, here we have a lion who’s missing half his life to amnesia, with a prominently so-blue-it-hurts fox imprinted on his brain that he doesn’t know the origin of. Perhaps most telling of all, he went by ‘Lenny’ until… I would say at least twelve years ago,” Nick extrapolated, “as a rough guess.”

Judy sat in silence, licking her fingers of fudge before wiping them clean on a napkin newly handed to her. She looked between Gideon, who was finishing up his form for the drug test, and Lanny, who was preparing it. “Perhaps he  _ was _ also in pred-therapy, but like Gid, repressed it into oblivion,” she grimly inferred, all the while her voice adopting a more and more disgusted tone, “Except he didn’t undergo the same…  _ ‘treatment’ _ .”

Nick crossed one leg over the other and propped up an elbow onto the knee. “According to our eye witness, the lion cub he shared a cell with was otherwise isolated and neglected, instead of physically tortured, perhaps for a longer period of time than a few weeks, maybe even  _ months _ .”

“That would be a death sentence for any herd or pack mammal,” Judy considered, “even solitary predators seek companionship every once in a while, it’s hard-wired… I suppose the looming question is: ‘What do we do with this information?’ if there  _ is _ anything to be done.”

The fox mulled, tail swaying out the chair’s open back as he observed Lanny and Gideon interacting down the hall, “As I’m sure you know, Carrots, the PredaTherp scandal still has  _ several _ shadowy corners and corridors that have never been brought to light.”

“Patient records, ledgers, sponsors… everything that was off the ‘official’ books and would account for  _ huge _ swathes of missing data…” she agreed, “Absent, even after all this time.”

“Locked behind denial of its existence and legal trails long since iced-over. Gid’s file isn’t in any legal database, because he was never convicted of a  _ crime _ … I would bet my tail that Lanny wasn’t either, being only a troubled, orphaned urchin. So, perhaps he  _ was  _ snatched up, but not in the way so many others have been,” Nick said.

The rabbit rested her chin on both palms, observing Gideon and Lanny. “Every victim of pred-therapy was interviewed to help identify anyone that wasn’t on the ‘official’ employee roster, to fill in the gaps, but no one was stable enough to button up their own shirt, much less testify… And yet, right over  _ there  _ are  _ two _ possible,  _ promising _ leads… that I just can’t bring myself to follow…”

“Nor I…” Nick accepted, “ _ If _ he is, indeed, the ‘Lenny’ that Gid shared a cell with sixteen years ago -- which the jury is still out on, mind you -- I can’t help but call it a blessing-in-disguise that they don’t recognize each other.”

Violet eyes looked up at green, and then back down the hall. “We’ll watch them, be there in case  _ anything  _ clicks,” she determined, “An errant smell, a random sound… it’ll be on us to catch them if those memories trigger.”

Nick only grunted in affirmation, his bushy tail sweeping around to embrace her.

Judy reclined the slightest bit into the soft, red fluff as though it were the arm of a couch. “Hey, Slick…”

“Hey, Carrots.”

“Remember that ‘mind-muzzle’ idea that we discussed with Esther on Monday night?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Does it still make sense to you?” she wondered, “We -- well, okay,  _ I _ \-- just  _ assumed _ that Aunt Clea would have all the resources to accomplish something like that, but how reliable could it  _ be _ ?”

“Oh, well enough…” he answered vaguely, and did not clarify until a beseeching glance was paid, “I’m sure you remember Fuchsia Loxley.”

“The ‘manipulative, lying vamp’ that could cry on command?”

“That’s the one. Finnick and I saw her in the park one day, and when we managed to get her away from her literal pig of a husband, we asked about pred-therapy. To have found a predator we knew get out of it and still be somewhat stable would have been  _ legendary _ , but… Loxy only smiled and said that it was the best thing that ever happened to her. No mention of whips or chains, nothing bad at all… like she got back from a  _ day spa _ , but a far cry from the vixen that went in.”

Judy pondered, “You also didn’t define any idiosyncrasy of hers, like counting  Lucky Chomps or pruning silk flowers. I didn’t follow the patient testimonies very closely, other than that they didn’t pan out to anything that could hold up in court, but maybe Fuchsia just needs… someone to help her realize that she might know more than she thought she did? It’s something to look into,” she reasoned, but was answered only by her partner’s continued, wordless doubt. “If I remember the before-and-after pictures correctly, she no longer had the gem in her fang; kinda hard to miss a gaudy thing like  _ that _ . What if we asked her about it?”

Nick shrugged. “Loxy figured she ‘misplaced it’, somehow. That’s when we wrote her off as a lost cause because the Loxy  _ we _ knew would have turned feral before giving up that stupid rock. No, we won’t get anything out of her; she’s as broken and muzzled as the rest of them, just with a more convincing façade.” 

* * *

The Shallows is a shade-lined “cemetery” sitting on the border of Conifer District and Ficus Grove in a lower corner of the Rainforest District but is really more a collection of plaques memorializing the small predator species that, in their tradition, cremate their dearly departed. Jackie Wilde cradled in one arm a single white lily and a bright red yo-yo as she traversed the names of those lost until she spotted another vixen sitting beside her exact destination.

“Fuchsia Loxley, fancy that,” Jackie greeted, smiling cordially to the fox who was not much younger than her own kit. The meeting was not what she’d hoped to face on that day, but then, the day itself was one she’d not hoped to face at all. However she felt at the time, Jackie bid the slightly pinkish-red fox remain seated as she knelt down, not minding the grass on the short, light traveling coat that she tucked in around her ladies’ slacks, and then set the white lily upon the plaque.

“Mrs. Wilde,” Fuchsia answered, grinning politely and modestly, and then her light brown eyes glanced down to the engraved name of  **Felix Loxley** , “I visit my father every other Tuesday at lunch, so what  _ is _ the fancy is seeing  _ you _ here.”

“‘Jackie’, please, no need to be so formal,” the maternal vixen assured to a tittering acceptance, and then set the bright red yo-yo next to the flower, “I’ve just come to check up on an old friend, and what a fine chance to catch up with you, my dear.”

“That’s awful nice of you. If Daddy could see me now, I’m sure he’d be happy that I finally made something of myself; a good, honest fox,” Fuchsia said a bit more enthusiastically than she perhaps intended. She clenched her jaw, relaxed, and then ran a finger over the toy with a light giggle, “Silly little token… I used to love watching him play with it, always said it was a metaphor for life,  _ quote _ , ‘no matter how far away you get, you always return to the one holding your string’,  _ end quote _ … But how have you been?” she asked Jackie, “By the way, that is a  _ lovely _ hat.”

“Oh, this old thing?” she dismissed, idly removing the lovingly mended, repaired, and maintained headwear, its bill re-stiffened, band re-elasticized, and even a brand new, preserved albatross feather and  _ faux _ greenery to adorn it all. “And I can’t complain, or rather,  _ shouldn’t _ . Spent a  _ wonderful _ day with Nicky on Friday, after all.”

A delighted gasp sprung from the younger vixen’s lips, “How _is_ Nick these days? Goodness, I haven’t seen _him_ in forever, not until that news report nearly two years ago and all the _nasty_ business that happened then. At least it got us foxes our _first_ _cop_ ,” Fuchsia proudly said, “Just like when he joined the Junior Ranger Scouts, but we’ll see if he can stick with it this time,” she teased.

“ _ Hmm _ , yes…”

“Oh…” Fuchsia dismayed, “I’m sorry, Jackie, I didn’t think it was a sensitive subject. He never spoke about it with anyone except Finnick… other than what Officer Crossie and his son said, of course…”

Jackie shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie, it’s in the past. I’ll actually be seeing him again today, in fact, so I’ll let him know I ran into you.”

Once again, Fuchsia was dismayed and shied with an accompanying moan. “You needn’t bother him on  _ my _ account.”

“It wouldn’t be a bother  _ at all _ ,” she assured, and then paused, slightly canting her head with inquiry, “…Would it?”

An answer was not quick to come, but when it finally did it was with a sad smile, “Nick and I… I don’t think we’re on the best of terms, so perhaps it’s better not to bring  _ me _ up.”

“Fuchsia, honey, whyever for?”

She shook her head, smiling politely once more, “Never mind, it’s something silly.”

Jackie softly grunted but complied. As the seconds ticked by, she thought to smile and reminisce, “I still remember when you and Nicky first met. It was orientation at the elementary school, and us foxes were all huddled together… John and myself with Nicky, Shane and his mate Fionna with Oscar, you and Felix… the eight of us sequestered in the very back of the audience, to suffer one of the  _ most  _ pointless speeches I ever had the misfortune to sit through,” she recalled, to some stifled laughter. “Of course, John couldn’t help but make friends, and of course, Nicky was right there with him… he somehow managed to convince the sweet little Faire fennec that they ‘saved each other’s lives’ from being ‘bored to death’ and that’s how they became ‘brothers’.”

“I was  _ so _ awkward back then…” Fuchsia chuckled, and tucked some excess fur behind an ear, “but Nick was so nice to me. Daddy always liked him… he didn’t think much of Finnick, but  _ Nick _ …” she petered off, and gently cleared her throat, glancing momentarily to the older vixen beside her and then back down to the plaque, “I’m sorry, Jackie, I know there was always a…  _ tension _ , between you and Daddy. Goodness, I’m going to gag on my foot one of these days…”

Jackie smiled with a patient shake of her head, “It’s a dual effort, my dear, because that was also the night Foxy and I saw each other for the first time in  _ years _ ,” she explained, punctuated with a sigh, “And he was less surprised to see  _ me _ than he was to see my mate and kit.”

“Daddy never was the type to bury the hatchet, not really,” Fuchsia admitted, “He’d go on about how you chose John over him when he thought I couldn’t hear… or didn’t  _ care _ that I heard. Bitter old tod probably took that grudge to the pyre…”

“Now now, we mustn’t speak ill of the dead,” Jackie calmly corrected, and then smirked, “Our scores turned to ash along with them, after all.”

The younger vixen twisted a fold of her dress between her claws and gazed away at the ground, as though she didn’t hear. “You were his  _ obsession _ … and then he tried to make Nick  _ mine _ …” she muttered under her breath, “Don’t get me wrong, Jackie, you’re beautiful and your son as fine a catch as ever there were, but… I never could figure out  _ why _ Daddy wanted you both so  _ badly… _ ” Fuchsia then cleared her throat and spoke up again, “There I go again, no filter whatsoever…”

“He always  _ did _ like my eyes,” Jackie offhandedly answered, and then glanced to the surprised vixen beside her, “He saw them and fell  _ madly _ in love with me. He would stare as if they contained all the world’s secrets… but I could see a hunger in his, an  _ ambition… _ ”

Fuchsia scooted closer, as though finally finding someone else to share in one of those terrible, taboo secrets, “But, mustn’t we  _ not _ speak ill of the dead…?” she coyly asked behind a paw while glancing at her father’s plaque.

Mrs. Wilde smirked. “It’s not speaking ill of the dead considered it one of their better assets,” she said, and a quiet giggle replied. “Something I will say of Foxy is that he knew how to get what he wanted, whatever the cost.”

“There wasn’t much middle ground between ‘worthy’ and ‘worthless’ with him, either, and wasn’t shy about saying so. Is  _ that _ why you hit him so hard you cracked his fang?” she wondered. Her father’s golden crown had  _ numerous _ stories behind it, but Fuchsia long since learned the reason was a scorned lover; it took a while longer for her to figure out  _ who _ that was, exactly.

Jackie blinked, but half-cocked a grin as she examined her knuckle. “I still have the scar from that, but  _ no _ …” she recounted, and looked back down at the nameplate, “This  _ wouldn’t _ be something to just… ‘speak ill of’…”

“I see…” Fuchsia accepted, “He  _ did _ love that tooth, though, flashed it with every grin he could… I got Daddy’s ashes after the pyre, but I think someone swiped the tooth… he didn’t even get a proper service… After I found out what happened, someone shows up at my door with him in a box and a word of condolence.” She wearily shrugged, and then stood to clap the grass from her dress before squatting and smiling to the older vixen. “I should get going, my husband is probably wondering where I am. Thank you for the chat, Jackie, it was quite pleasant,” she said, leaning in to gently nuzzle at the maternal cheek, as a kit should, before picking up her purse to depart, only to pause a few paces away. “It’s… probably a  _ good  _ thing Daddy can’t see me now, married to a pig as I am; I don’t think he’d understand. See you later.” And off she merrily walked, putting on her sunglasses after leaving the cemetery.

The older vixen waved her farewell with a smile that grew sadder at each passing second and then sighed as she looked down at  **Felix Loxley** once more. “No… you probably  _ wouldn’t _ , would you,” was the soft statement, her face hardening despite herself, “But you’d only be  _ half _ so surprised as when you found out that I actually  _ could _ bear kits,” she said, fist clenching to stretch the scarred pelt across her left knuckle. As soon as the ire flared it drained into cold remorse when remembering that single gold tooth in his leer, knowing exactly how he’d respond, “… _ a _ kit.”

Jackie stood and made to leave… but looked down at the yo-yo she set by his name. A swift swipe grabbed it up, having changed her mind about any “token” left behind, other than the flower. A swift step strode from the place, throwing the toy into a nearby trashcan, string and all.

There stood John, patiently leaned against a railing as though a gentlemammal on his cane, checking his phone as though a pocket watch on a chain, and glancing up with his head inclined as though from beneath the brim of a hat. He grinned wide, head and ears flicking to set his shades back from the tip of his nose and over his eyes as he tucked his phone away into a coat pocket, both paws soon folded behind his back on approach of his mate. “I trust it went well?” he asked.

“I trust you saw Fuchsia on her way out,” she answered, keeping stride to pass him, not even pausing as she raised a finger to point his snout in her direction, to which he suavely complied and walked alongside, elbow extended for her convenience.

“I  _ did _ , but it was not a mutual seeing,” the tod casually said, “She holds everything so close to the chest that sifting through the paranoia and doubt felt a bit intrusive on my part. I think I can safely reason that she confided  _ something  _ in you, though, if not overtly.”

“Love of my life, I was in there to remember an old friend and have a delightful chat, not to fish for information.”

He chuckled. “As if your intentions  _ ever _ stopped  _ anyone _ from confiding in you,  _ ever _ .”

Comfortably on his arm as the vixen was, she leaned in to possessively cling for an instant. “It’s a curse, it really is.”

“So, what did we find out by being our typical, beautiful self?”

“Only that Foxy’s life purpose involved  _ me _ …”

“Sounds like there’s a conjunction to add in that most  _ overt  _ observation,” John remarked, walking steadily towards their patient  Zuber , wherein their minimal luggage for a trip into the country awaited their return.

“And  _ Nicky _ , once he found out about him,” she mentioned, “I always thought he and Fuchsia would be cute together, but it’s heartbreaking to think that Foxy pulled his daughter’s strings just like he did everyone else’s.”

John walked in silence for a moment longer. “Not that I blame him, our son is of  _ excellent _ breeding,” he mused, “But why, for the life of me, would he  _ endeavor _ to make Fuchsia a ‘Wilde’?”

Jackie stroked her tail along his to stiffen both spine and gait of her most favorite tod in the world (one of two favorites, of course). “Stumped at last? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“ _ You _ stump me  _ plenty _ ,” he argued and snapped his posture to straighten his fur, smirking all the while, “Besides, the only other explanation would be to make Nicky into a ‘Loxley’, which  _ hardly _ makes more sense. Felix  _ did _ choose his own surname, after all, being without a family as he is.”

“Well, I suppose he couldn’t have just chosen a  _ commoner _ name like ‘Wilde’, now could he?” Jackie cooed and earned a wry glance from her mate. She promptly leaned up and caught his lips in a kiss, thusly wiping away any slyness he might have boasted. Green eyes looked into brown, flecked with green as they were, a gaze which lingered until a paw lightly batted at her husband’s chest.

“Right; door,” John realized, and reached up to unbar passage into the idling rideshare with one paw, while the other aided his wife up, even taking a knee to provide a boost, “Madam.”

“Such a gentlemammal,” Jackie commended with a subtle trill, letting the tip of her tail brush under his chin.

“Happy to be of service,” the tod said, and nimbly hopped in after her to continue their trek to  Zootopia Central Station .

* * *

Judy wasn’t sure  _ what  _ to expect… there was plenty she  _ prepared _ herself for mentally, but as it was often the case when dealing with Nick, he always found some new way to get under her pelt. Not that Gideon was of  _ any _ help in that regard.

“Freshen your beverage, madam?” Nick offered in a stiff, overly proper tone, the baker’s pink apron draped over his forearm as he presented three unopened juice boxes on a cafeteria tray, “We’ve a simply  _ divine _ vintage of pomegranate juice.”

“We’ll begin today’s meal with an appetite-wetting garden salad,” Gideon said, whose proper speech was not as uptight as his cousin’s, setting down another cafeteria tray with a salad and four identical plastic forks lined up on one side. “ _ Bon appétit _ ,” he declared and then kissed his fingers with dramatic emphasis after lifting the plastic cover off of the greenery.

Judy, Bo, Nick, and Gideon waited in the hospital cafeteria while Lanny was preoccupied with his MRI, so she thought it was as apt a time as any to reveal what she learned the night before from her grandfather: there was a strong -- an  _ immensely _ strong -- likelihood that the Hoppses  _ owned _ the Savages at the turn of the last century. She, of course, spoke as delicately as she could while maintaining the integrity of the revelation, and stressed that she never in her life considered either them or  _ any _ other fox beneath her. A tense silence followed until the red predators broke into a routine of head butler/inept kitchen-boy, wherein they switched roles without much lead-in while attempting to “serve the lord and lady of the house”, i.e., Bo and Judy, respectively.

Poor Bo was frozen with uncertainty as he tried to process not only  _ her _ revelation but  _ their _ reaction. Judy patiently abided their antics, privately glad for the mockery as opposed to any shock of betrayal (which would have been truly unbearable). “Okay guys, knock it off,” she laughed with endearment, flicking her wrist to bat at the air for a ceasefire.

Only after the hearty guffaws died down did the brown rabbit finally speak up, “Was all that…?”

Nick shrugged and grunted, “ _ ‘Eh _ , call it ‘bantering’ if you want, that’s just us making light of an otherwise heavy and/or dark topic. Honestly, it sounded like this ‘Piberius Savage’,” he air-quoted, “was less a slave and more hired help, what with the wages Laverne paid him and this…  _ ‘Trudy’ _ vixen,” and air-quoted again.

“Besides, if all this happened a hundred years ago, what diff’rence does it make today? Us Greys and them Wildes ain’t no Hopps ‘housefox’,” Gideon tacked on, also air-quoting, “And it’s not like you’d treat us like that anyway, huh Jude?” he punctuated with a smile. “I’m more flummoxed about that vixen named ‘Trudy’ and  _ her _ colorings,” he continued with an elbowing to his cousin, “Except  _ she _ ain’t a ‘Wilde’.”

Judy inquired Nick with a hard stare as she ate her salad.

Nick drummed the table awkwardly. “I may or may not have led Mr. Barley, and the rest of the Bunny Brigade, to believe that I knew a vixen resembling  _ you _ .”

“Okay,” she dully accepted, “I’m sure you have a decent enough reason for it.”

Nick shrugged and grunted again, if a bit higher, “ _ ‘Eh…? _ ”

“Which I’d  _ love _ to hear.”

“Same,” Bo agreed, opening up the packet of crackers which the salad came with.

Starting off with a heavy, exaggerated sigh, Nick grabbed up and punched a straw into a juice box to sip. “Alright,  _ fine _ , but it’ll be  _ brief _ . After I escaped the hostage situation yesterday and secured Esther with the deputy, I took a shortcut through the woods from Tad’s to Gid’s,” and nodded at his cousin, “In which time I was chased down by the Bunny Brigade I told you about, on the suspicion that  _ I _ kidnapped you.” The table flinched. Nick continued, “Anyway, in an attempt to sow confusion and dissent in their ranks -- so, you know, foxing with them -- I  _ strongly _ hinted at the idea that I had another ‘cousin’. Now, as you know, I call  _ you _ a fox from time-to-time as a form of solidarity, and because I love you,” he smirked, and then sipped some juice, “With your popularity and all these traditional bunnies about, I figured it’d be easy to tweak their nerves by referring to you as such. Imagine my surprise when they not only  _ believed _ me about such a vixen but apparently, there’s a Hopps-family story about her, too.

“Fast forward to after the pie-eating contest, when Mr. Barley asked me about this mysterious, Judy-colored fox. Well, I was already  _ very _ exhausted at that point and the only name I could think of was what I overheard your Gramps call you on the phone: ‘Trudy’. So, it was something of a self-fulfilling prophecy,” he concluded and drained the rest of the juice box. He crossed his arms and sat back in expectancy, “And there you have it.”

Bo rubbed his chin before he asked, “That would have been the time when you and the Burrow Watch were surrounded by ravens, correct?”

“Correct,” Nick confirmed.

“Which was why Mr. Barley came ‘round with the whole death-in-the-family spiel, thinkin’ your soul got pinched, or somethin’,” Gideon clarified.

“Also correct.”

Judy sat quietly. “Does ‘Trudy’ sound familiar at all, maybe ‘Gertrude’? Piberius’s sister, perhaps, or a  _ mate _ .”

Both foxes shook their heads. “Nothing about a sister, at least to  _ my _ knowledge, but his mate was Grandma  _ Clawdia _ ,” the taller one clarified, “who I only know by name.”

“Or for me and Essy, ‘Granna’, rest her soul, and I haven't met her, but I heard she was awfully nice,” the stouter of the two added, “Ed Mallupe and Pop-Pop aside, a hundred years sounds more like a  _ great- _ grandpa. I mean, we still got a picture of him when Ma and Aunt Jackie were  _ kits _ , and he didn’t look  _ as _ old as those other two.”

Judy sprung like a jackal-in-the-box to stand on the cafeteria seat. “A photo!” she declared, “Did he have both eyes and paws?”

“He  _ did _ ,” Nick reported, “and I’m sure we reached the same conclusion, Carrots: he likely wasn’t  _ that  _ ‘Piberius Savage’.”

“Now, see, tha’s because he’s an  _ admiral _ , not a pirate,” Gideon said, and pulled out his phone, “I thought I’d take another gander at the photo this mornin’; also gave it a quick cleanin’, on account it was so dirty. Then I got to thinkin’ on what  _ you _ did, Stretch, and took a picture of the picture to maybe show the face around, get it cross-ref’renced at the library when I get the chance.”

“That’s pretty thorough, Hoss,” Bo commended.

“Thanks,” he responded with a grin, and flicked open the picture to show it to the bunnies, “Tha’s him here with Granna.”

Judy both deflated in initial disappointment, but then melted with an adoring moan of the paired foxes, “You know, I never  _ did _ get a proper look at this, the very few times I was at the Grey house, always too high up on the wall. But there he is, with both eyes and paws.”

“It’s a little hard to see but that’s  _ definitely _ an admiral’s uniform he’s got on; you can tell by the cufflinks,” Bo pointed out, a grin spreading on his face as he studied the digital photograph, “Royal Navy of  Liondon , the constitutional monarchy that sprung up after King Richard the Lionheart when the five lines of his children, each of whom died in the Crusades, banded together into a parliament to prevent civil war. According to legend, the Lionheart crown remains  _ unclaimed _ even after all these centuries, even though Prince John  _ would _ have ascended, except he was deemed an enemy of the crown after the whole betraying-his-brother thing.”

Both Judy and Gideon marveled at such information (to which  _ he _ grinned smugly at Nick about).

“Fascinating,” Nick said, reaching over to pluck the phone for himself, “May I see- thank  _ you _ .” He grunted curiously, enlarging the photo with a reverse-pinch. “Yep, that uniform -- which I’ll have to take your word for since it’s mostly covered by the kits standing in front of him -- is definitely  _ his _ , you can tell by the seam going under the collar.  _ Clearly  _ made to fit.” He glanced up and shrugged at the flat stares. “What do you want from me? I’m the son of a  _ tailor _ , not a historian.”

“So, where  _ do _ you know Madge from, anyway?” Judy asked, diverting his attention long enough for Gideon to grab his phone back.

“Nowhere of interest,” Nick dismissed after a moment, folding his then empty palm on the table, “She ran an off-the-grid clinic  _ several _ years ago for us shiftier Zootopians that didn’t want a paper trail every time we needed a flu shot… or, you know, got stabbed,” he then quickly added, “ _ Other _ mammals that got stabbed, Finnick and I visited her because she told the best conspiracy theories and had a  _ very _ secure bunker, in exchange for goods under the table and at a fair price. You could imagine my surprise when she showed up at Cliffside that night… but on the same token, it made sense that Lionheart grabbed a back-alley prediatrician to handle Doug’s targets since it was all hush-hush at first.”

“Slick?”

“Yes, Carrots?”

“Madge acted sort of like a  _ ‘granny’ _ to you and Finnick back then, didn’t she?” Judy asked significantly. She would not, of course, betray his confidence by so clumsily blurting out about the safe house known as “Granny’s” that he told her about on Sunday evening, the very same that he and Finnick were on the way to when they encountered Mack Mallupe those many years ago.

“Certainly, but don’t let  _ her  _ hear you, she’s very sensitive about her age,” he then said with a sardonic smirk.

“Learn somethin’ new ev’ryday,” Gideon thought aloud, “I remember she came in some time after the whole PredaTherp thing, was here for a few years, and then up and left not too long before the Pred-Scare. I wasn’t too aware of anything back then, o’course, so I didn’t pay her much mind other than she was a doctor. It was somethin’ of a shock seein’ her on the news-” he then snorted and laughed, “I’m sorry, I can’t keep it up.  _ No _ one was surprised to see her on the news or back  _ here _ when all was said and done.”

“I always wondered where she went off to, way back when…” Nick admitted, “Figured somewhere out of Zootopia completely, but  _ never _ in a hundred years would I have guessed Bunnyburrow. Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all, it actually makes sense that she’d beeline for a predator community out in the sticks…”

“So, wait… if Dr. Honey is  _ from _ or lived  _ in _ The Brambles for any length of time, why didn’t she know about  _ midnicampum holicithias _ or its effects?” Bo inquired.

“Sharp, Bobo, I was thinking the same,” Judy said, her ears twitching along with his, “and here comes your opportunity to ask.” They both turned towards the double doors leading from the cafeteria into the hallway and the entering badger.

“Nick?” she said almost immediately, only hanging halfway through, in fact, and beckoning him over with a single finger. The sternness in her voice was gone, and yet it affected the group in the exact same way as before. “ _ Just _ Nick,” Madge then clarified when everyone else at the table rose from their seats, and so three of them returned to a planted position while the taller fox stood fully, and approached somberly. “Exam room number two,” the doctor instructed with a nod of her head.

“Is… is Lanny…?” Gideon nervously asked.

“He’s fine,” the badger assured to a consensus of relief, “We won’t get the results about how the NH affected his brain chemistry for a while still, but… he wants to talk to  _ you _ for a sec,” Madge then said to Nick, holding the door open only long enough for him to go through, and then letting it close behind him.

The fact that she didn’t follow was a bit chilling for Nick, but he continued along the sterile environment with only the gentle clap of his padded feet on tile to accompany him. Customary knocking preceded entering when he reached the appropriately numbered door, and his green-eyed face poked in with a greeting, “Heya, Freight… you decent, or are you still in one of those gowns that’s open in the back for the whole world to see?”

Lanny didn’t answer; he only sat in a chair, watching how he wrung his own jeans in a daze.

“Looks like you’re a boxer-briefs kind of guy,” the fox casually pointed out, not yet fully in the room as he noticed the lion’s still folded shirt and discarded hospital gown on the examination bed, and so slowly inched out, “I’ll just let you get dressed, then-”

“I didn’t get a concussion, Nick,” came a leaden, susurrant confession, and it seemed all he was capable of.

The fox took a moment to process the new information, and instead slowly inched into the room to close the door behind him. “Umm… congrats?”

Crimson irises rose up from under the short bangs of his mane as his face turned to Nick. “Madge only found trace amounts of scar tissue on the MRI, not enough to justify amnesia,” Lanny reported, the lethargic slump of his frame tightening as his knuckles shook in the grip of his own paws, a grip that visibly traveled up the length of his arms and across his chest to the sound of stressing, twisted denim. “I  _ know _ what causes it, and if it wasn’t  _ physical _ trauma, then it was  _ emotional _ or  _ psychological _ … It was the only way I could explain it, that a car accident took my parents and my past… but now? I can’t… I can’t even  _ imagine _ what could have been  _ so bad _ that I blacked out half of my  _ own life _ .”

Nick pursed his dark lips and pinned his dark ears, fairly certain that his eyes and fur comprised the  _ only  _ remaining color on his face, and try though he might to hide such an involuntary action (and he certainly hid it well enough), the larger predator’s eyes suddenly sharpened to train upon the fox. In another involuntary act, Nick reeled back as the lion sprung to his feet and full, looming height.

“There’s that look again like you  _ know _ something!” Lanny accused with extended arm and finger, and snarling though his face was it was fractured in a plea, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Freight,  _ buddy _ , come on,” Nick then attempted to placate, palms out in offering as his eyes flicked down, “I’m more worried that you’re going to fall out and give  _ me _ a concussion. How about some pants, and then we can talk about what I do or do not know, okay?”

The lion stood petrified, and in stark contrast to the fox his face reddened until his fur and ears about matched his mane and eyes in hue, the latter darting down to perhaps realize that his jeans were bunched up in his clutching, pointing fist, instead of covering his lower half. Lanny turned on a heel and gave them a flap to bend over and step into them hastily.

Nick breathed. “Dad always said you could tell a lot about a mammal by the clothes they wear,” he mentioned, edging over to the exam bed and the open wallet which clearly fell out onto it; inside was a driver’s license depicting the resident lion, but with a smile and a notably fuller mane. “A wardrobe is one of those things that -- like our friends or hobbies -- we make regular decisions about, and so cannot help but imprint ourselves on. For example,” he continued and grabbed the folded shirt to give it a quick flap, “This is a weather-beaten shirt, and-” gave it a quick whiff, “ _ Definitely _ lion, and not just because you’ve been wearing it all morning. I’d say you wear it quite often.”

Lanny zipped and buttoned his denim before pivoting, paws on his waist to say, “It’s my go-to shirt for working at the dock.”

“And on the front…” Nick continued as he turned it around, “You’ve got ‘The Beast’ in dynamic presentation, a large fella who was cursed by an enchantress with strength drawn from ‘The Abyss’, and the combined features of both predator  _ and _ prey… even if more the former than the latter.” A flick of the wrist tossed the shirt to a patiently waiting paw. “The origin story of  _ this _ particular comic book superhero was  _ very _ careful not to reveal or hint at who he was before he transformed. In fact, he was magically wiped from memories, databases, records… such that not even  _ he _ knew his own species or  _ name _ .”

“I found some common ground, I guess,” Lanny said, head popping up through the shirt.

Nick then picked up the lion’s wallet and examined it with a speculative grunt. “Look at this  _ smolder _ , you must be ducking lionesses as well as Lookers,” he teased, clapping it shut and holding it out, “My guess is you wondered who was in the picture, though.”

Lanny’s paw halted as it reached, fingers trembling for a moment before limply grabbing the wallet.

“It fell out of your pants pocket and opened up onto a mammal with  _ glorious _ locks that couldn’t remember his own parents because of a concussion,” Nick continued, “But  _ you _ don’t have a concussion, as you said. I imagine it was quite a shock, so much so that it stopped you dead in your tracks, pants or no.”

The newly-shirted chest inflated with a tremulous breath. “I never realized how much I leaned on that crutch until it was taken away from me. It explained  _ so much _ , and I’d already come to accept it as something I couldn’t control,” Lanny admitted, opening to his driver’s license again. “Growing up, I was given the opportunity to change my name, just like all orphans, to  _ choose _ an identity. Even though I only had a last name, I thought I knew who my parents were or might’ve been, even if they were just… just some nobody lions from South Savannah. I tried looking for them, but either their car accident wasn’t public record or my search lead to  _ Sam  _ Wild… and I  _ don’t  _ think he’s related to me… not that I haven’t tried getting to him after his concerts, of course, but he’s famous and I’m just…” he sighed and tucked his wallet away again, slumping back into the chair with a sad smile, “just some nobody lion from South Savannah.”

The fox was leaning on the chair’s arm at that point, peering up at the distraught nurse. “And you remember absolutely nothing about your parents?”

Quiet answered initially. “Nothing worth talking about.”

“So there  _ is _ something.”

“ _ Why _ do you care, exactly?” he asked not unkindly.

“Because  _ you _ know I get loads of information from the most  _ innocuous _ questions,” the fox replied with a smirk, “Word of the day: ‘innocuous’.”

After a reflexive chuckle passed, Lanny at last acquiesced. “I…  _ do _ remember  _ one _ thing about my dad…” he began but turned a bit bashful.

“Go on,” Nick urged.

“It’s silly, but I… used to bite his ear, every chance I got,” Lanny said, and smiled warmly, “I would say ‘Hey Dad, I’ve got a secret’, or would talk really low so that he had to get his head down far enough, and then I’d  _ bite _ as hard as I could onto his ear. Never could make out his face, only that he was a  _ big _ guy, so I’m sure he hardly felt it, even if he made a big show each time. It’s only a… a long blur of memories, though, all just kind of melded together…” His eyes then turned to Nick, hopeful.

He did finally respond after some thought, “Nothing else?” To the shaking, maned head, Nick smiled, “Well, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that your dad loved you very much,” and to a patient bewilderment, continued, “He wouldn’t have fallen for such a ruse so often if he didn’t think biting his ear was your way of showing how much you loved him right back. I used to ambush  _ my _ Dad at every opportunity when  _ I _ was a kit, too. I might also wager that he wasn’t home a lot, maybe worked long hours, since us ‘nobodies’ from South Wherevers tend to do that; work our fingers to the bone to provide for those we love, and sometimes need a token to remind us of why we do it.”

When Lanny’s chin and shoulders trembled, Nick walked around to stand in front of him, paws reaching up to cradle the bowed head. It flinched as if the fox were hot to the touch, but soon enough settled to the very light stroking through the fur on his cheeks, and around behind his ears, all the while keeping eye contact until the larger predator visibly calmed. “As much it pains me to say this, Lanny, I don’t have an answer for your amnesia,” Nick admitted, giving the lion’s cheek a gentle pat before mildly gesticulating, “but I know a few big cats in South Savannah and they’re pretty okay with me, so maybe when I get back to the city I can chew some ears about any ‘Wild’ lions with a bit less fame, or even that green-eyed ‘uncle’ of yours. Now, while it might not have been a car accident,  _ per se _ , I could invest some brownie points at the precinct and look into any unclaimed fire victims from back then.”

“You… you would do that…for  _ me _ ?”

Nick laughed with a light slap of the lion’s knee, “Lanny, I’d have another hole in my head if you hadn’t tackled Doug; something I do  _ not _ need, just putting that out there. You  _ saved  _ my  _ life _ , so the least I could do is try to get  _ yours  _ back to you- _ oh _ , okay!” he yelped.

Lanny had dropped from the chair and knelt on the floor, massive arms wrapped around the fox and pinning him in a hug, not so tightly as to cut off air but certainly preventing any escape. “Thanks, Nick…” he whispered.

Hugs were no stranger to Wilde-with-an-’e’, and perhaps he should have seen it coming from Wild-with- _ no _ -’e’ by his body language alone, but it suited him well enough. Nick couldn’t find any muzzle scars when he caressed the lion’s face a minute ago, and when he managed to get his arms around the lion’s neck, couldn’t find any hidden in the depths of his cropped mane, either. It didn’t absolve the possibility of Lanny’s incarceration in pred-therapy alongside Gideon, it simply meant that if he  _ were _ muzzled it didn’t cut into his flesh in the same way. Ulterior motives aside, the fox squeezed the lion right back before clapping his shoulder, “As comfortable as this hug is, Freight, the others are probably wondering what’s taking so long. We should quell their worries before  _ some _ one -- namely Judy -- decides to meddle,” he advised, “and if anyone asks, you were fully clothed when I entered the room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Beast” comic book superhero that Nick describes here is a reference to Beast from “Beauty & the Beast”. In this story, his powers include superior strength, speed, stamina, senses, and sonic blasts, but also enchantments that allow him to animate and command objects in his vicinity (this power doesn’t always work to his benefit). "The Abyss" mentioned is a long-standing and widely-known philosophical construct for the sake of this story, symbolizing the primal regression which resides in all mammals, but a source of power for “The Beast”, which in some issues lead to a dark, uncontrollable rage. The dark rage and object-animation are later revealed to be linked, the latter acting as mitigation for the former (in one issue, "The Beast" is subdued by animated construction equipment).
> 
> Sam Wild is a reference to Samson from the 2006 movie, “The Wild”, and was mentioned earlier in the story. In this story, he is a famous concert/lounge singer from South Savannah.
> 
> “Granny’s” is a reference to a safehouse that Nick mentioned in of Brave, chapter 5 when he was explaining his connection to Mack the Sparrow to Judy.
> 
> “I haven’t met her, but I heard she was awfully nice” is a reference to the 1999 movie “Tarzan”, when Jane describes Queen Victoria.  
> “Liondon” is a combination of “lion” and “London”, acting as a foreign nation and superpower in this story. It, like Zootopia, is a city-state and capital of its nation.
> 
> Fuchsia Loxley’s husband is Ronald “Runt” Litter, both of whom are references to Foxy Loxy and Runt-of-the-Litter from the 2005 movie “Chicken Little”.
> 
> The “mind-muzzle” is a theory that Judy and Nick discussed back in Brave, chapter 7, wherein “patients” of predator therapy were psychologically silenced from relaying what they witnessed during their “treatment” to explain how nobody came forward about what really went on in there.
> 
> The phrase that Fuchsia uses, “quote … end quote” and the red yo-yo are references to the original “Chicken Little” animated short from 1943.
> 
> “Officer Crossie” is the hippo cop who was only alluded to back in Brave, chapter 5, as the guy that brought in young Nicky to his parents. Hippo… Crossie… get it?
> 
> Gideon’s lack of a criminal record was touched upon in of Brave, as it was completely missing from the legal archives of Bagh & Little, the firm where Esther practices law.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	6. Chapter 6

_ Yo-ho, yo-ho… _

It was before midday.

_ A pirate’s life for me… _

But it was still dark.

_ We pillage, we plunder… _

It was never bright.

_ We rifle and loot… _

Not in Underland.

_ Drink up, me hearties, yo ho… _

Finnick didn’t care for Tundratown. He cared for Underland even  _ less _ , but at least it was warmer. His ears were made for temperate climes, after all, and his nocturnal eyes appreciated the ever-present twilight, as opposed to the sun-reflecting snow up top (even if it was the fastest, easiest, and cheapest way to make Pawpsicles  _ en mass _ ). The underground area was established for the bat population, but also those regular burrowers, like moles, or hibernators whose natural rhythm relied on polar locales that went weeks without daylight. That was why the majority of Underland existed beneath Tundratown and its neighboring districts; there were rumors that it wove into the subways beneath Savannah Central, though.

When any Zootopian up top is asked about Underland, the most common response is “The theme park under Tundratown?”. Not  _ wrong _ . The scheduled sand or ice storms that keep their respective habitats as natural as scientifically possible also make for a lot of largely unused expanse, so the subterranean byways allow for small gathering places, both public and private, and in the more popular case, a tourist attraction. Finnick and his parents were actually from Sahara Square before moving to Conifer District, on account of his dad, Shane’s job, and while he didn’t grow  _ up _ beneath the shifting dunes, he learned enough to make do. What Underland was beneath  _ Tundratown _ , however, well… there’s a reason that those in the know would call it “The Cold and Dark of Zootopia”.

Larger species stayed out of Underland since clearance for the head (or antlers) was a luxury for anyone that required digging to get it, natural caverns notwithstanding, so they kept to the “official” ecosystem maintained by City Hall:  Subterraria . It meant that the smaller, shiftier, nocturnal species flourished beneath the city, where the archetypal “nobler” animals, like stags and lions, couldn’t keep an eye on them. Finnick didn’t care for such generalizing stereotypes… accurate as they might be on the broad spectrum of history. Over time, perception became reality and the law acted more as  _ guidelines _ , upheld only by those with the pull to do so; he and the law had a tumultuous relationship… despite how much he cared for the first fox and bunny cops.

Contrary to popular belief, Subterraria and Underland boast  _ phenomenal  _ reception -- at least within their own enclosed areas -- thanks to the fiber optic receiver/transmitter grid integrated into a structural support mainframe, which was monitored by the city for any potential threat of cave-ins. Getting that important information to the surface was another matter entirely, and so a secondary mayoral office was constructed to handle local issues; it was there that a dedicated fiber-optic “nerve center” ran a constant line of communication with the topside world, overseen by the colloquially named “Sub-Mayor”, which is also an unelected position.

Finnick sat in the back of his van while it fueled up at a  Natural Gas Station from one of the numerous vents in Subterraria, modified with a dispenser that kept any odorous fumes safely contained. They were a nigh necessity since solar energy was not easily acquired underground. It also wasn’t cheap, but he was adept enough at mining for cryptocurrencies -- such as  BiteCoin \-- and only had to check his laptop to ensure nothing had gone awry with his program (or that no one else was trying to solve the same formula that  _ he _ was, the far bigger issue).

“Only a little over a trillion left, huh? Might run out any day now,” the fennec teased as he mined another crypto-unit, and after filling up his van still had plenty left for a shot of espresso and a cranberry muffin. Were he greedy or stupid, Finnick might feel inclined to continue solving problems for money, but instead disconnected from the mining program since he was just a little guy and didn’t like drawing attention to himself (being both physically small and a once independent hacker). Before he closed his laptop, however, a message popped up in the corner of his screen:

**Ar-arooOOoo**

The long, sandy ears flicked. He knew what it meant… anyone that hung long enough around larger canines like wolves and coyotes picked up on their howl-to-text code (Nick eventually got the hang of it when he started working with the pack in the ZPD). While Finnick knew some mammals that would use “howlxadecimal”, there was only one wolf that contacted him on  _ that _ laptop. He’d already slipped an anonymous and excruciatingly detailed tip to the ZPD about a foreign drug lord visiting the city, as Uncle John advised, and was on his way to rendezvous with his new employer, Mr. Big (employment was something he hadn’t experienced since that part-time job at  Bug Burga with Nick). Still, the sandy fox elicited help from the best to find out what  _ those _ in the know weren’t telling, and it sounded like Mack Mallupe -- his mentor and friend -- found something juicy.

**“Where are you at?”** Finnick responded, using his translator program to do so.

**“Around back,”** he instructed.

The long, sandy ears flicked again, but he closed his laptop, unhooked from the gas dispenser, and then revved up his vehicle with a jostling bang from the tailpipe. They met up only rarely during his hustling partnership with Nick, and much like the urban legend of the fox “Johnson”, the “Sparrow” was nigh uncatchable and his true identity unknown… at least by the populace at large;  _ unlike _ Johnson, Mack actually existed. As he rolled into the narrow, empty lot behind the NGS, Finnick wondered what could possibly bring the scraggly wolf out of hiding, and yet there he stood, a figure that was tall for Underland but not his species, whose saunter was both confident and directionless; he likely didn’t have a destination, but no one was stopping him from getting there. He glanced about at the approaching van, the wolf a gradient of cobalt and burnt sepia beneath an open, weather-ravaged coat and hat whose colors were little different than the earthen wall on which he leaned, as though he just stepped out from it.

“Little Bird,” Mack greeted, lips pulling back into a toothy grin with one or two crowned fangs, the face which was obscured by the brim of his hat was then illuminated by the glow of his phone. He snapped the phone case shut with a flick of his finger to tuck it into his jacket pocket, and only on his approach was he cast in light from the convenience store carved from stone (and wired with electricity). From his suspenders to the pouch-laden belt hanging at his hip, to the chain that dangled around his thigh, the unkempt wolf looked the sort without any home to call or port to make berth, a vagabond with access to anything and everything in the city… so long as it was digital. It was thought that without a dedicated workstation, the dark web pirate was crippled… but with enough time on a smartphone (and a USB cable, if needed), he could make any computer his and from there no doors were closed.

“What’ve you got?” Finnick asked in a low tone after opening his window, hanging his elbow out as he looked up at the wolf squatting and leaning against his idling van. As discreetly as he cared, a roll of money was exchanged.  BiteCoins were all well and good and electronic, but cold, hard, untraceable cash still spoke volumes in the modern age.

Mild gesticulations aided in Mack’s speech to only further confuse anyone else engaged in the conversation, “A right buggering problem, mate. What you gave me was  _ nuclear _ , with all the bells and whistles to draw lots of attention.”

He scoffed and flicked a pointing finger, “I wouldn’t have sent it your way if I thought you couldn’t handle it, and  _ you _ wouldn’t have accepted if you didn’t think you could get away with it. It must’ve been something juicy, though, right?”

The wolf smirked again. “Magnus put his best treasure behind his strongest locks, and I only scratched the surface,” Mack said and pulled out a run-of-the-mill USB data stick, holding it only just out of the fennec’s reach.

“And what’s that, his deepest, darkest secret?”

“No. Much more better.”

“It’s a  _ key _ .”

“It is a  _ drawing _ of a key,” the wolf clarified, “His firewall is a labyrinth of ever-changing layers upon layers of security.  _ I _ got in.  _ I _ got out.  _ This _ is how I did it.” Mack then handed it over.

Finnick was a bit stunned, examining it suspiciously at first. “What more’s to it? You don’t just  _ give  _ stuff away.”

“Holding onto it doesn’t do me a spit of good; on the contrary, I’d be a  _ very _ dead wolf if caught with that in my possession,  _ savvy _ ? So, I think us square that I blaze a trail through the radioactive firewall, and  _ you _ take on the radioactivity. Fair’s fair,” he said and stood to his full height.

“What, it’s no good at  _ all _ ?” the small fox disbelieved, waggling the USB stick, “You’d have thrown it away, then. There’s a firewall behind  _ this _ firewall, isn’t there?” he asked, big caramel eyes narrowing, “Probably something biometric.”

“It’s no more or less than a voiceprint, Finny, and all the processing power in the world can’t get through all of the combinations of one little bunny’s voice. It’s actually rather poetic,” he pondered in some mild distaste, and then flicked a dismissive paw as he leaned on the van once more, crossing one leg over the other.

Finnick sat back, spinning the device about in his fingers. “One bunny, huh…”

“You’ll find it’s actually  _ six  _ bunnies, but there’s  _ one _ that I know you know.”

“…Judy?”

“Judy,” Mack confirmed.

“So… I just need her to speak into a mic and she’ll unlock this second firewall.”

“You’re not making any sense at all,” he continued to gesticulate, “You’ll need  _ four _ of the six, mate,  _ and _ their passwords. Another fun bit is that three of them are Magnus, Clea, and Grav themselves.”

The sandy-furred face gawked. “You can’t be  _ serious _ .”

“Would I lie?”

Finnick sneered.

“…To  _ you _ .”

“…”

“About  _ this _ , the blood and sweat of my work,” Mack kept on, pondered, and then wheeled his paw, “Be it as it is, bunny number six is the high-and-mighty Mr. Felix.”

“Felix  _ Lapis _ … of  _ Hexward _ ?” he groaned, and then groaned again in frustration, “Okay… maybe Grav will exchange a voiceprint for a lighter conviction, but Magnus and Clea… and the  _ Felix _ . So who’s this last rabbit? You only mentioned five names.”

Mack counted them off on his fingers and then shrugged. “No name I recognized, at least living.”

“That’s just  _ great _ ,” Finnick grumbled, “They must have died recently. Tell me the name anyway, maybe I can find a… a  _ recording _ or something… might have to splice some audio clips to get the password.”

“You’ll have a hard time finding  _ those _ , Little Bird, from what little I could dig up this Hector Howard is decades dead.”

“‘Howard’, as in the housing developer, I guess,” the fox wondered and jut his chin in thought, “Could be a pseudonym, though…” but he rubbed his ears to growl under his breath, “I’ll need Nick’s help on this. If anyone can find someone with the fake name of a dead rabbit,  _ he _ can.”

As the wolf turned to leave, he turned about right again to crouch near the van, even closer than before with his head leaning in through the window in a rather panicked calm. “I might perhaps be  _ very _ much mistaken, so do correct me should I err, but it almost sounds as though you might, once more, seek to earn the ire of one ironically name arctic shrew with a notorious habit for overcorrection of slights, imagined or otherwise?”

Finnick reeled some not only for the schnozz thrust into his immediate bubble but the observation it spouted. “I guess I could get a hold of Nick  _ after _ meeting up with Mr. Big,” the fennec promptly considered.

“Would be a right terrible thing for past events to reoccur,  _ savvy _ ?” Mack cautioned, “You’ve already buddied up and burned bridges before, mate, yet lived to tell the tale-” He vaulted back at the closing window, even if it closed only part-way.

“We won’t make  _ that  _ mistake again, Mack; foxes don’t get caught twice,” he said, and held up the USB with a slight waggle, “Thanks for the info, by the way, I’ll have plenty to work on tonight.  _ Ciao _ .” With the parking brake released and the gear shifted, Finnick rolled around the other side of the NGS, leaving the wolf alone in the backlot, even if only for a moment more before he, too, disappeared into the midday night.

* * *

“Strange… and maybe a bit ominous,” Bo remarked, putting his walkie-talkie back down with no lack of professional worry, “That’s the  _ twelfth _ raven sighting I’ve heard since we got here. Sorry,” he then said, and gave a permitting gesture to the nearby badger lounging on a clinic cafeteria chair, “please, continue Dr. Honey.”

Madge nodded to accept and did so, “All I’m saying is that NH doesn’t go away after only a few days, especially not with free-acting hallucinations, so I might still be able to catch its neurological effects in Lanny.”

“I haven’t heard  _ anything  _ about Pollen causing Dawsons… or whatever anyone else calls him…” Judy conversed, “Hallucinations, yes, but I was under the impression that this new strain was a  _ completely _ different kettle of fish.”

“Granted, it’s not widely known… or  _ accepted _ ,” the predatrician begrudged, “I was brought in when this whole plague of Pollen got serious in the city a few months ago, and each interview made it clearer to me that NH in a concentrated state had  _ unprecedented  _ neurological effects, beyond even the… the  _ savagery _ ,” she punctuated with a dry gulp. Bearings regained, she continued by counting off on her finger, “The flower’s effects are split in three: petals, pollen, and nectar. The pollen itself is a hallucinogenic, which disconnects the mammal from reality; the nectar is a neural-stimulant that I  _ suspect _ reacts with the subconscious, but have not been able to test this theory before today; the petals are something like a combination of caffeine and steroids that only give the jitters without the other two parts of the flower.”

“And on the _midnicampum holicithias_ , the nectar is located deep inside the bud itself, so to get its full effects a mammal must eat _everything_ , down to the bitter stem,” Judy added.

“Exactly,” Madge concurred, “so when Leodore showed me Patient Zero, I  _ immediately _ thought ‘ _ midnicampum holicithias _ ’.”

“Then why-!” Judy argued, who best remembered that it was  _ she _ who revealed the toxic flower’s involvement in the Pred-Scare, and when brought to light shocked everyone, Dr. Honey included.

“Because when  _ digested _ ,” the doctor interrupted with a patient, stony gesture of her paw, “the flower only invokes a flight-or-fight response that fades without stimuli, and it’s my understanding that they taste  _ terrible _ ; that’s why the bulbs are…  _ were _ sold over the counter in floral and garden shops.”

“They’re kinda like the  Tige Pods of the flower world,” Gideon commented, “Pa said that anyone fool enough to eat one got what was coming to ‘em, but Ma wasn’t worried about having a few around the house to keep the bugs away, and not  _ too _ close, of course, on account of allergies. And then the Pred-Scare happened, stoppin’ all use of it in gardens and crops and stuff.”

“They’re also not lethal, ironically enough,” the doctor responded, “I had Patient Zero secured for observation, but when they remained in that state for over an  _ hour _ , I pumped the stomach -- which was an  _ ordeal _ \-- yet there was no trace of the flower, not there, not in the teeth or gums,  _ nowhere _ . So… I nixed it as a cause and explored  _ other _ possibilities, especially when Leo’s wolves didn’t smell traces of the flower where they picked up-” she grumbled, “ _ caught _ the victims.”

The earthen rabbit lowered the volume on his walkie-talkie a bit as its radio chatter involved issues not concerning him. “What a stroke of luck that Mr. Lionheart’s wolves could apprehend the predators before they hurt anyone,” he said, and then blinked at the bemused stare from the badger, “I didn’t  _ hear _ that they hurt anyone… at least until after the arrests happened…  _ was _ anyone mauled?”

Madge shook her head. “Up until Emmitt Otterton and Renato Manchas,  _ no _ one was attacked by the savage predators,” she explained, and then further explained, “We  _ know _ this because they didn’t have any blood on them. It  _ wasn’t _ luck, though…” Her voice quieted as she glanced about, and if either Nick or Lanny were there, would recognize the wild look in her eyes. “Those mammals were practically  _ dropped _ into the laps of the Pack in Black. Bellwether  _ wanted _ them to be caught to set up Leodore to take the fall  _ and _ to spread fear throughout the city… and I would  _ bet _ you she slept like a little lamb at night because she didn’t have to let any  _ prey _ get hurt in the process.”

“At least… until  _ after _ Cliffside. There was that caribou mauled by a polar bear, remember?” Judy countered significantly.

“ _ Yes _ ,” the badger conceded, “but at that point, her scheme was already underway, wasn’t it? It was  _ working _ , so any casualties were ‘eggs for the omelet’. Spread rumors and suspicion, after that, let predators use it as an excuse for their poor life choices, or vindictive prey turn in their neighbors… it snowballed, keeping the ZPD, media, and the masses busy so that Bellwether could put her  _ own _ legislation in place to control the predators of the city, and then the  _ prey _ . And she wasn’t going to stop there, either. Do you think Zootopia was the first place this was tried?”

The ears of both rabbits sprung like sails in a tailwind.

Madge’s eyes grew wide as her teeth bared in a grin and she sat up electrified. “Wait right here, I’ll go get my tablet to show you the web of connections!”

“Hold that thought,” Judy said as politely as she could, “Nick and Lanny are coming back…”

“Do you think they sound…?” Bo asked, ears twitching, but then joined Judy in a relieved sigh, “They’re  _ chatting _ .”

“Kind of put-off, though…”

The two predators at the table twisted in their seats to the opening door of the cafeteria, allowing entrance for the towering, tawny cat and the compacted, crimson canid; the latter was tucked under the arm of the former.

“You’re no fun,” Nick pouted, as evidenced by his dangling crossed arms and tone of voice, since he was carried tail end first into the room.

“ _ You’re  _ a miscreant,” Lanny replied.

“I wasn’t going to  _ take _ anything, just snoop around Dr. Madge’s office, maybe fiddle with her conspiracy flowchart a bit…”

“You never change, Nick,” the badger dully observed.

The fox flailed a bit with disapproving groans as Lanny approached the table. “Here you go,” he said to Gideon, handing off an upside-down Nick, tail and legs drooping forward, untucked shirt bundling at crossed arms; a patient grump included.

Gideon touched his own rounded stomach. “Oh, uhh… jus’ put him anywhere…” he said offhandedly but did scoot over to make some space.

“Well?” Judy politely asked, and when Nick was sat right-way-up to address her, she further probed, “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Lanny assured, and walked around to sit on the bunnies’ side, his weight impressing on both seat and table as his elbows leaned onto the flat surface, “I just needed to ask Nick a few things.”

“‘Dawson’ things,” Nick immediately picked up after smoothing out his shirt and looked significantly to Judy.

Judy’s nose twitched as she wove her fingers together, making a steeple out of her indexes to point with an arcing path from her lips to Nick, adding a thoughtful moan to emphasize her understanding, “I  _ see _ . It sounds like these ‘things’ have met their own conclusion.”

“In a manner of speaking, and  _ speaking _ of manners,” Nick hurriedly said, “I understand that I’ve been somewhat  _ rude _ during my short time here, being oh- _ too _ -familiar with the head of medicine of this fine clinic -- that is an  _ excellent _ portrait you have in the hall, by the way, it’s quite vivacious in its austerity-”

“It was a  _ gift _ from a family of arctic foxes after I got rid of their intestinal parasites,” Dr. Honey explained, to which both red foxes at the table cringed, “In any case, Nick, I don’t expect  _ you _ to start calling me ‘Doctor’ or anything like that… we know each other too well, and it sounds weird coming from  _ you _ . Besides,” she added with a slightly lighter tone, “at least you never called me  _ ‘Granny’…  _ Finnick neither, actually. So, don’t worry about it.” She stood up and pulled from the table three sheets of paper, “As soon as you answer all the questions, Nick, I’ll get started on the evaluation-”

“Oh, here,” Lanny said and pulled from his back pocket an identically colored sheet to unfold it, “I ran through the questionnaire with Nick while we were in the examination room,” the lion reported as he handed it over, “Two birds, one stone.”

The badger grunted in approval, accepting the form and flattening it with the rest. “I’d say that about does it, then. We should get the results of the urine tests tomorrow, and the MRI sometime after that. You’re all free to go, as far as  _ I’m _ concerned, just remember that you can’t report for duty yet.”

“So… would  _ I _ be okayed to return to Lions Gate, then?” Lanny asked, his hopefulness bordering on cub-like.

Madge studied him, and then shrugged in good humor, “I  _ guess _ .” The lion pumped his fist. “I couldn’t find any obvious damage during the brain-scan, so its results will be for my own study of the Night Howler drug. Still, it’d be a shame to see you go, Lanny, you’re a hard worker and mammals like you. I wouldn’t mind you working here more often.”

“Like… how do you mean?”

“You’re a breath-of-life nurse, something I know the city has plenty of but  _ we  _ don’t have out  _ here _ ,” she elaborated, “I’m the  _ only _ certified prediatrician in the Corner, and I’d welcome a little more help every now and then. It’s nothing as glamorous as the city, but it’s  _ way  _ cheaper, and you’re trained in hospice care, right? I know some predators that are  _ just _ this side of bedridden, so I’m sure a few families could use a registered nurse coming in to check up on them, especially one that can lift his patients from the bath, bed, or wheelchair.

“You don’t have to answer  _ now _ ,” the badger assured, walking around the table to approach the stunned lion and set a business card next to his paw, “But… think about it?”

The maned face smiled a bit more. “Wow, that’s… this is huge, Dr. Honey, thank you,” Lanny said, “I never thought about moving out here before, but… it’s something to look into.”

“ _ And _ Gideon’s bakery would be  _ much _ closer,” Nick added, unwrapping the half-sandwich that he pulled from his cousin’s tote bag, biting down into it with a delighted groan, “Which should be a  _ deli _ , too, just make all kinds of food; no holds bar. Maybe I could transfer to be a deputy out here, and eat his cooking three meals a day…”

“Maybe you’d actually put on a few pounds,” Gideon said, even if his tone was one of teasing as he backhanded the taller fox’s stomach, “Get yerself a nice, healthy belly like mine.”

“I  _ have _ been meaning to store some fat for the winter…”

“Yeah, if you could ever keep it  _ on _ ,” Madge said with her own brand of teasing, “I let you hang around my place in the city because you finished off the stuff that was about to go bad, but you’re as skinny  _ now _ as you were  _ then _ .”

Judy jokingly chimed in, “There are some at the precinct expecting Nick’s metabolism to go out any day now, and then he’ll actually have to watch what he eats, like the rest of us.”

“If this is another betting pool, I want to place money on ‘never’,” the taller fox smugly said.

“Oh, you would win that, hands-down,” Bo reported, clicking his radio off after the thirteenth raven sighting, “Your metabolism is just going to worsen with age.”

“There, see? Straight from the nutritionist’s mouth,” Nick boasted but then leaned closer to Bo to talk behind his sandwich, “I can’t help but notice that you said ‘worsen’, though.”

Hazel eyes cast about at their gathering of friends as he rubbed his neck and bit his bottom lip with internal conflict. “You’re  _ sure _ …?”

“Absolutely, Punch, one-hundred percent.”

“Well, it… it’s because of your  _ muscular hyperatrophy _ .”

Dead silence fell on the table.

“My what?” Nick asked, sandwich lowering some.

“You know I never considered it before, but that makes sense,” Dr. Honey concurred, “Your metabolism  _ should _ have caught up to you by now, but you still have the appetite and build of a teenager. It must be a high category.”

“Wait, is ‘high’  _ good _ ?” Nick asked, borderline panicked.

“Yes, very good,” Judy assured, “ _ Muscular hyperatrophy _ goes from ‘0’ to ‘6’, marking off to which stage in your life you survived.”

“I’m ‘category 4’, ‘adulthood’, the highest for bunnies,” Bo said matter-of-factly, “And it’s like I mentioned before, Gloves: predators and large prey get it, too, but it’s never  _ noticed _ , at least in one’s prime. Your senior years are when the symptoms will start to show, so you probably still have another twenty-five, thirty years before that happens.”

Nick sat back with a distant look in his eyes, ears pinned and tail down… and slowly ate the sandwich. He then glanced about, saying with a mouth partially full of food, “What, I’m not going to stop eating  _ now _ , now am I?” and took another bite.

Gideon scratched his cheek with a furrowed brow and puckered lips before he recalled, “Tha’s somethin’  _ passed on _ , ain’t it…?”

“It’s on the X-chromosome, yes,” Bo said, “So, if  _ Nick _ has it, then… Jackie, right? She must be either a carrier or has it herself.”

“Not to my knowledge, Mom’s always been rather healthy.”

“But I  _ don’t _ got it, that’s for darn sure,” concluded the stouter fox, gesturing to his robust build, “And I don’t think Ma’s got it,  _ either _ .”

“Your mothers are likely carriers,” Judy postulated.

“Jus’ my luck I miss out on a trim tummy…” the baker said under his breath.

“Oh, sorry that you’d ‘miss out’ on beanpole status…” Nick remarked and exchanged a glare with his cousin.

“Guys, really, it’s  _ manageable _ with a steady diet, exercise, and… certain medicinal performance enhancers,” Bo petered off.

“What, like,  _ steroids _ ?” Nick scoffed as he finished off the sandwich and licked his fingers, “Sincerely, I’d rather gorge on the best food in the world.”

The brown rabbit nodded. “Prescription steroids give a half-category bump, I’d say, and all the side effects that go with using them, but… they don’t help those of us with allergies…” he added, perhaps a bit bitterly and under his breath.

Lanny groaned in realization, “So  _ that’s _ why you were thrashing about on Sunday…”

“Yeah…” Bo replied bashfully, “The hospital staff  _ should _ have known I was allergic, and if you hadn’t inserted yourself as you did, I’d  _ still  _ be swollen up like a balloon today.”

“If only you’d stop losing your medical alert bracelet,” Judy coyly admonished.

“I ordered another one, but it hasn’t come in yet!” he insisted.

“Prolonged use of steroids for  _ muscular hyperatrophy  _ is ill-advised, especially for smaller species,” Madge disapproved, “Even if it  _ can _ progress them onto the next category. On top of ‘roid-rage, it causes hysteria, psychosis, and even internal damage as their body-fat percentage drops like a rock.”

“That sounds  _ suspiciously _ like a certain rabbit that we know of,” Nick remarked.

“I talked with Bo about it this morning, and he agrees that Graham exhibited all the signs,” the gray bunny explained, with concurring grunts from the adjacent, earthen bunny.

“No  _ wonder _ he could still stand after I hit him with the fox-taser.”

“ _ Nick _ ,” Judy groaned and touched her forehead.

“Never mind,” Bo said to the nearby medical professionals and their questioning glances.

“Trust me, I’m no stranger to off-color humor,” Dr. Honey assured with a glance at the taller fox, “So, will you all be hanging around the Corner?”

“Not me,” Gideon answered, rising up from his seat, “I need to get back to my bakery, at least for a bit. I wasn’t s’posed to be out this morning, not that I expect any orders came in, but I shouldn’t jus’ willy-nilly disregard my customers.”

“Bobo,” Judy said, “are you assigned  _ to _ Preds’ Corner, or to  _ Nick _ ?”

He thought about it. “I’m on the Preds’ Corner  _ team _ but Mr. Barley specifically said to keep an eye on  _ Nick _ , so wherever  _ he _ goes,  _ I _ go, and since he’s not being  _ held _ …”

The gray rabbit clapped her paws together, “We should go to the TBR! It’s only the second day, after all, and I didn’t get a chance to yesterday. How about it, Slick?”

“Oh…” he grunted, “ _ very well _ . It’s not like I can say ‘no’ to you anyway. And maybe I’ll be awake for most of it this time. What do you say, Freight, care to join us?”

“Sounds fun, but I’ve been gone longer than I planned for,” Lanny admitted, “I could give you a ride on my way out, at least.”

“How ‘bout you stop by my place, first? I’ll send ya’ off with somethin’ sweet for the road,” Gideon offered, a prospect which both Lanny and Nick beamed at.

“Speaking of, thank you for the brownies, Gideon, they really hit the spot,” Madge said as she left the table with a wave of her free paw, “I’ll be in touch.” When goodbyes and well wishes were exchanged, the badger departed out the cafeteria door and into the hospital hallway beyond.

“Hey, Bangs, might I borrow your house key?” Nick asked of his cousin, “I’ll want to avoid the  _ ‘fair’ faire fare _ by bringing some cash, which is secreted away in my suitcase.”

“The Corner’s ATM isn’t far from here,” Lanny suggested.

“I know, but I want to avoid surcharges, too, even if they don’t work  _ as  _ well in wordplay,” he responded with a smirk.

“I hear ya’, two bucks here, three bucks there, it adds up quick-like,” Gideon agreed and fished out his keys to remove the one requested and flick it through the air into a deft catch, “Just get it back to me when you stop by my bakery; I should have some snacks done up for y’all by then.”

Gideon left out the front as Nick, Judy, Bo, and Lanny left out the back, the lion’s favored place to park since it was the shadier part of the building throughout most of the day. “It is  _ very _ peaceful out here,” he’d admit, pulling his keys from a pocket to remotely unlock the doors of his vehicle, and then glanced up as a trio of ravens flew high overhead.

“Unusual avian activity notwithstanding,” Bo observed with a paw over his eyes as he watched them, “The skies over Bunnyburrow have been  _ notably _ busy today.”

“ _ Nick _ ,” Judy accused in a punchy drone, “What did you  _ do _ ?”

“ _ Nothing _ ,” he responded in an equal tone.

The brown rabbit turned his walkie-talkie back on to listen. “Yeah, sounds like the Knotash bunnies are anxious about  _ something _ …” and then engaged in some back-&-forth with a series of codewords before holstering his radio in continued professional worry, “They’re circumventing the Felix to fast-track their  _ own _ moving trucks and return to the city. Good chance they’ll be out of Preds’ Corner by the afternoon, as opposed to their scheduled departure  _ tomorrow _ .”

Lanny, mostly uninvolved in the conversation, opened up the driver side door and groaned at the only-then noticed trash he let pile up. “I’ll just need a minute to clean this out, wait here a sec…” he awkwardly reported, and then hurried back to the hospital to grab some garbage bags.

“Another part of your  _ ‘deus ex machina’ _ ?” the gray rabbit airily assumed, arms crossed as she gave her fellow off-duty cop a sidelong glance.

“ _ I _ had nothing to do with this,” the fox asserted, “flattered though I  _ am _ that you think I can manipulate chance, probability, and birds with  _ such  _ ease.”

“We’ve kept both eye and ear on him all morning, Juju,” the brown bunny said, “and the sightings have been going on since before he spoke with Lanny in private.”

A dark-tipped ear of Judy’s swiftly batted Nick’s cheek with no more warning than the slightest cant of her head. “ _ You _ … always such a troublemaker,” she teased.

Dark paws swatted at the ear in a sudden recoiling. “I  _ never _ make trouble that I can’t handle… or successfully run away from. Fox, and all that.”

The three smaller mammals were not waiting long for the large predator’s return since Lanny knew where the utility closet was and “utilized” two trash bags, additionally, they were not waiting long for him to clean out his truck, either, or even  _ at all _ . Before the lion knew what was happening, he was instructed to stand outside the open driver side door and hold the plastic sack open (while a placid Nick similarly stood at the passenger’s side). A flurry of discarded water bottles, soda cans, receipts, paper towels, snack foods, and  Bug Burga wrappers was sorted into one respective bag or the other with the combined effort of both long-eared prey. A dollop of paw-sanitizer for each bunny (and a rigorous wiping down of the interior that depleted Lanny’s paper towel roll) concluded their preliminary cleaning.

A dazed lion tied off the trash and a quiet fox tied off the recycling to hand it over for proper disposal. At last, Lanny remarked, “Wow that was…”

“ _ Nothing _ compared to the van of your average bunny family,” Judy boasted in a fist-bump and pantomimed explosion with Bo, “Boom.” Her ears sprung, as did Nick’s when their phones chimed with a text message simultaneously, and with it a round of expectant or curious glances as they pulled out their respective mobile devices. A swift gesture of mute communication bounced between them.

“Police business?” Bo discreetly asked…  _ Judy _ , specifically.

“Maybe,” she responded, eyes flicking up at Lanny who, likely enough overheard and shuffled his paws awkwardly as if he were caught eavesdropping.

“Hey, uhh…” the brown rabbit then said with a turn of his heel, “lemme help you with that, Lanny,” he offered and hoisted the bag of recycling over his shoulder.

“Right, thank you, Bo,” the lion answered, somewhat stiffly, and led his fellow iron-pumper over to the clinic’s dumpsters.

Judy and Nick huddled up to examine their text messages.

“Oh, it’s from Esther,” she noticed as they both read it through, and then remarked, “Still… best that this isn’t spoken aloud…”

“Dr. Cleopatra Lapis as a ‘litmus test’…” Nick quietly doubted, “I don’t…  _ buy _ it, but I can’t just discount it either since Esther’s plenty clever and has information I don’t.”

“If we want a proper read on Aunt Clea, we need to get you one-on-one with  _ her _ , away from Uncle Magnus,” Judy soberly determined, “I found out last night that she’s a victim of domestic violence.”

The fox grimaced his disapproval. “Yikes… next, we’ll find out that Magnus kicks ducklings for sport.”

Judy put her phone away. “Do you think we might count on Aunt Clea as someone who can help us take him down?” she asked her partner.

Nick watched his phone a bit more; thumb impatiently scrolling back and forth. “Good question, but hard to say without more info. If so, that’d be  _ amazing _ , and I think we’d need to get the whole Hopps family for an intervention. If Magnus is as colossal a pile of slime as he’s turning out to be, then he’s got her wrapped around his finger from toe-to-ears, and she’ll need, like, a  _ thousand _ simultaneous healing hugs for her to turn him in.”

“‘Healing hugs’ was just a song to teach empathy to bunny kits, Slick.”

“Don’t lie to me; I’ve seen it work on the Internets, ergo, it’s true.”

Purple eyes rolled. “By the way, what  _ are _ you looking for?”

“Oh, nothing, just… I thought I saw a text message from Finnick pop in last night, but I was preoccupied and didn’t read it, and now it’s not there. So, I sent one to  _ him _ to ask if he sent me anything, and it was delivered, but he hasn’t read it yet,” Nick observed, and tucked his phone away.

“Is that odd?”

“No, he pulls texts back all the time, but normally with some snark involved, and there was none  _ here _ .”

“Can’t talk fox without snark, now can we,” Judy said ironically.

“It means there’s something else going on,” Nick continued and rubbed his chin, “The last time he did something like  _ this  _ was when-” he began, but immediately ended with a wave of both paws, “Just a fluke, I’m sure.”

“Nick,” she patiently admonished, and only continued when he scratched at his neck in her general direction, “I know you said you’d tell me about  _ that _ when you were ‘ready’, but I can’t ignore all of this  _ flagrant  _ avoidance, especially if it’s impairing your judgment. And don’t tell me that ‘the skunk-butt rug is funnier in retrospect’ because you know you can’t lie to  _ me _ .”

“Great; you, Finnick, my parents, and now Esther are all wise to my tricks…” he muttered under his breath, “ _ Fine _ … I’ll tell you about it the next time we’re alone,” Nick said, who then peered over at the more muscular mammals returning from their successful disposal of  _ literal  _ refuse.

* * *

Ratpack music hummed over the car’s speakers. Fancy cups were racked above a decanter of strong spirits. Polar bear fur drifted to the floor of the limo to the occasional movement of its occupants. Finnick Faire sat in wary patience as his ears flickered to the velvety pipes of Jerry Vole, eyes glued to his phone’s screen as he waited for a response from Nick. It was the night before that he warned his brother-by-bonds of his parents’ impending visit to Bunnyburrow, but the status of the message was only ever “Delivered”, not “Read”. How very unlike Nick to let anything from  _ him _ go unnoticed…

“That is very nice suit,” the overhead polar bear thundered with his inside voice, “but you do not need to wear it every time seeing Mr. Big.”

“It’s comfortable, Raymond,” Finnick replied, not glancing up from his phone until he turned it off and tucked it away, “and Mr. Big said ‘dress  _ respectfully _ ’. As this is the only ‘respectful’ thing I got, it’s what I’ll wear.” Raymond, the hired muscle polar bear, returned to his own phone with a shrug. Finnick wasn’t thrilled about running to Mr. Big for protection so  _ soon _ after landing on his payroll. He also had to leave his van behind in a secured parking garage, which he wasn’t thrilled about either, especially since it meant he couldn’t bring  _ all _ his tools with him (along with a gas tank he  _ just _ filled up…); he had a few briefcases that Raymond and Mr. Manchas, the black jaguar driver, lugged into the trunk, which would have to suffice for whatever task the arctic shrew had in mind for him.

The gray, early afternoon carried on its light flurries, if broken by bouts of severe calm, as the executive car arrived at the Tundratown manor which Nick and Finnick once feared more than any other place in Zootopia: “The Big House”, a name spoken only in jest and in quiet. As wary as he was to accept the position from Mr. Big, the fennec was  _ more _ worried about rejecting it. His single attempt to deny any sort of  _ use _ to the arctic shrew’s operation was languidly but  _ decisively  _ countered; apparently, Finnick’s last task some many years prior was the first time Mr. Big’s books -- both “official” and actual -- were properly balanced. So, he was hired on as a “technician”, officially speaking. Upholders of the law were not often on Finnick’s side unless  _ he _ had all his ‘i’s dotted and ‘t’s crossed (which he did  _ very  _ well), and his newest employment didn’t bode ill,  _ per se _ , but it certainly wasn’t optimal in terms of his legal standing… despite rumors of Mr. Big’s recession from his more criminal activities.

One of the severe calms paused Tundratown’s flurries as the car pulled up to the looming house; even as it was basked in rich sunlight its classic, cold-specified architecture was little welcome to  _ any _ who was not in its owner’s good graces. Caramel eyes of the fennec widened and reflected the house’s image, an unforgotten dread of the last time he crossed Mr. Big would always grip his heart; he steeled himself and exited the limo as Mr. Manchas opened the door.

The hearth was lit, as it usually was. Grandmama’s likeness was forever enshrined above Mr. Big’s desk, complete with candles whose wax dripped over their respective sticks to further exaggerate her aged appearance. Finnick entered to find the arctic shrew visiting with his daughter, Fru-Fru, and granddaughter, Judy. Koslov, a polar bear who held the city’s record as  _ the _ largest predator, stood in patient observation of the heartwarming scene taking place in a mobile room that -- at least to the fennec and anyone else foolish enough to say aloud -- resembled a panorama or a dollhouse nursery.

Rodents, whose size and numbers are both the smallest and greatest in Zootopia, respectively, often invest in modular living arrangements to help adapt with an environment in which a single city block could comprise their entire known existence. For the richest and wealthiest, like Mr. Big, mobile rooms with gyroscopic stabilization allowed for such delicate living conditions as an infant’s nursery (and rubber-cushioned, reinforced-steel handles for easy carrying). It was a truly remarkable inverse relationship that rodents and other such small mammals had with their much,  _ much _ larger counterparts; where one boasted mind-bogglingly intricate crafts and low energy usage, the other possessed the strength to shift the very world itself. Much like the first truce formed by lions and zebras that birthed the idea of Zootopia bridging predator and prey, as detailed in a mural at the Natural History Museum, so too were tiny and enormous joined in harmonious cooperation, as represented by the mouse and the elephant.

Or, in Mr. Big’s case, the arctic shrew and the polar bear.

“Hi Finnick,” Fru-Fru sweetly greeted from the panorama of her daughter’s nursery, and then accepted the baby arctic shrew from her grandfather’s knee, “Thank you, Daddy. Did you have fun with Grandpapa, Judy?” The baby answered with unintelligible glee.

“Oscar, so good of you to come,” Mr. Big commended in his wheezy calm, settling back into his armchair and crossing one leg over the other. Unlike his normal business attire, he was garbed in an around-house shirt and slacks with a robe, which certainly looked as viable an ensemble to go meet with respected clients at a moment’s notice. The enormous polar bear reached into the mobile room to pluck Mr. Big and set him down upon the desk with tremendous care, as another polar bear (looking much like a nanny) grabbed the handles to lift the nursery up and away, all automatically stabilized so that the flower vases inside the room didn’t even jostle. “I knew it was the right choice to bring you into my confidences again, to give you a second chance to earn my trust,” he said, his voice, though soft, filled the room as his daughter departed it, “Within a week of putting on that suit you now wear, you provide a path to the future of my prospects, but most importantly, the future of my beloved daughter and granddaughter.”

Finnick could not help but quirk his eyebrows as he was encouraged to approach the desk (eyes leaving Mr. Big only long enough to affirm that the trap door leading to an icy death immediately in front of it was securely closed), and then offered a chair to sit in; which he did. “I’ll be honest, Mr. Big, I’m just telling you what Nick and his dad told  _ me _ , but I didn’t realize this llama was as serious as Uncle John said.  _ Is _ a drug war coming to Zootopia?”

The arctic shrew hemmed disinterestedly, “I’d rather it didn’t. My mammals have already confirmed to me that  _ his _ arrival in the city is no doubt some kind of leisure trip. The Supai family are notorious drug lords whose lineage reaches farther back than any other in the world… but they are not fools and know better than to start anything like a ‘drug war’ in Zootopia. Not that  _ I _ would let them, anyway… I get much more use out of the living than the dead, you see.” The fennec’s jaw set into place. “What’s the matter, Oscar, you’ve been high-strung ever since you got in here, and throughout the whole time John was fitting your suit over a week ago.”

“Maybe it’s the idea of a  _ drug war _ that has me on edge?”

Mr. Big idly rubbed his fingers together. “Oscar,” he conversed, “don’t  _ lie _ to  _ me _ . I don’t appreciate when my trust is betrayed and I do not hire spineless yes-mammals. So, if there is something wrong that you cannot fix, then you will tell me and I will see that it is,  _ capisce _ ?”

Finnick froze, but not because of the cold outside. “Y- _ yes _ …” he answered and cleared his throat, resisting every urge to put on his best face for earning favors or sympathy, knowing it would actually be a detriment to him in the current circumstances. “Well, you wanted me and Nick  _ dead _ for the whole skunk-butt rug thing…”

“I did,” Mr. Big concurred, “but that is in the past. The wounds are mended and the scars fading. I do not want you dead  _ now _ ; on the contrary, I want you very much  _ alive _ . For a few short weeks, my businesses stayed in the black after you balanced my books, and I feel no shame in admitting that I want that stability again; you have an excellent head on your shoulders, and it would do the world an injustice to let it go to waste. As for Nicky, he is not only a decent cop with a sense of how things work but also the son of the best tailor in the city… both of whom are a rare, trustworthy fox.  _ You _ are trustworthy too, Oscar, which is why I want you in my employ. What happened with the skunk-butt rug hurt me because Nicky dishonored me, but I found it in my heart to forgive him.”

“‘ _ Forgive  _ him’?” the fennec bristled, ignoring for a split second the towering polar bears in the room, or the trapdoor immediately under his chair that didn’t need a lot to open into a pit of hypothermic ice water, “Maybe it’s  _ you _ that should apologize!”

The businessmammal in his lounging robe did not so much as flinch, only rubbed his ringed fingers together idly. “For trying to kill you? Please, Oscar, don’t make an idiot of yourself, you’re better than this. As I said, I get more use out of the living, but if I wanted you or Nicky  _ dead _ , you  _ would _ be. However,” he continued, as it seemed that Finnick remembered his circumstances, “I am not a blind mammal, and will confess that Nicky’s prank had, in fact, saved me in the long run.

“Do not mistake me, my indignation was justified. That skunk-butt rug was sold to me as the finest Merino wool… It’s not the cost which angered me, Oscar; money comes and goes… it was about  _ trust _ . Nicky shaved the fur off the butt of a skunk and then  _ sold me _ the rug, but it wasn’t funny when that same skunk came to me nearly a month later with the biggest business deal in a decade, only to recognize his own fur in  _ my  _ rug, and lost his temper,” he nearly hissed, “His stench still lingers in my old office.

“That said, I found out that the skunk’s business deal was  _ poison _ . He discovered a mine of precious gems in a foreign, unclaimed territory and thought it was free for the taking, but the source was not as plentiful as he led so many to believe it was. Mercifully enough, a warlord found him before his investors did.” Mr. Big sat back in his armchair again, “I have reason enough to  _ thank  _ Nicky, but nothing to  _ apologize _ for.”

The hearth somberly crackled as the fennec sat and listened, sitting as upright as he dared. “The rug was switched out on Nick,” he explained, earning a slight arch of the arctic shrew’s eyebrows, “Loxy came up with all the best hustles, I figured out the logistics, and he made it work… but after we lost her to pred-therapy, we were struggling to come up with anything  _ good _ . And then Nick got the idea to lug off the bags of shaved fur from groomers and barbers, bring it to someone he knew that could make rugs on the cheap, and then sell them as high quality. That skunk… was one of the first attempts to get the fur ourselves, and he was willing to pay top dollar for someone to do it… because no one else  _ would _ . So, after Nick shaved his butt-fur, we agreed to never sell it to anyone until Nick knew he could pass it off as a joke if it were ever discovered,” Finnick explained, his stare hardening the more he spoke, “It  _ was _ a Merino wool rug, at least at first, but Honest John switched it out before delivery. We still don’t know  _ why _ he did it.”

Mr. Big vocalized an aggressively unenthusiastic  _ ‘meh’ _ . “Honest John was a parasite that earned nothing except the death he got.”

Finnick scrunched up his face. “He taught us how to survive on the streets-”

“He ‘taught’ you how to be the foxes the world expected you to be: shifty, dishonest cowards,” the arctic shrew accused, scowling as well as pointing, “I’ve seen plenty of foxes, weasels, raccoons, badgers, skunks, otters… each one of them I meet, all exactly the same… barring very few exceptions: Emmitt Otterton and John Wilde.  _ They _ earned my trust and never once betrayed me… So, when I found out that Nicky, John Wilde’s son was willing to do jobs for me, I thought it a great opportunity. As it is, John only ever works for me on the rare commission,” he sighed, “You, Fuschia, and Nicky followed Honest John because it was  _ easy _ , and look where it got you. A decade or more of living off the scum of the city’s underbelly, justifying it as ‘survival’. In your defense,” he admitted, “he had his strings secured around you like every street urchin duped into working for him. The only reason you weren’t sold off to Pleasure Island was that he still had  _ use _ of you, and whatever happened to him-”

“You blew him up!” Finnick bellowed in one of the few times of his life that he ever emulated his father’s booming voice, so much so that the windows of the office gently rattled. He was standing in his chair, fur raised from the tip of his tail to the back of his neck, dark lips pulled tight in a snarl. “You put a bomb in his van and it would’ve gotten me and Nick if you hadn’t called us to make sure we got the message,” he hoarsely growled, lightly heaving.

Mr. Big’s eyebrows arched enough to show off his beady eyes, but in a moment of composure, he raised a paw to placate the polar bears that advanced on Finnick (whose head had whipped around to address the enormous predators). “So,  _ that  _ was his fate… in which case, you’re welcome,” he coolly said, and thus Finnick’s pupil’s narrowed, “I now remember that phone call, Oscar, I remember I had every intention of sending a ‘message’, until I heard the explosion, even if I didn’t know what it was at the time. There was silence, and then Nicky only said that Honest John was dead; I expressed my approval of his sudden demise, and then the line went out. I didn’t plant that bomb, that’s not my style,” he wryly said, and gestured down to the trapdoor with its icy death beneath, “Nor would anyone in my employ do that, if they knew what was good for them. That pit you’re sitting over has a net at the bottom. If I need someone to think about what they did, I let them collapse from the cold and then resuscitate them, or kill them again if need be.

“Now, have a seat, my child,” Mr. Big continued, and then beckoned one of the polar bears in an especially sharp suit, “Bring some tea with a bit of honey.”

“If the bomb wasn’t  _ yours _ ,” Finnick said after he stopped gasping, shaking not only from the emotional outburst but at the sudden soreness in his throat, “then whose was it?”

The arctic shrew mildly shrugged. “We may never know, but I commend them for ridding the city of one of its worst denizens.” The room was quiet for some time, and Mr. Big turned his attention on the fire to watch it flicker and dance.

Finnick took a moment to gather himself. He knew what Honest John did… or at least…  _ eventually  _ found out that he enticed orphans and runaways with puppet shows, candy, toys… the first taste was always free, and more could be earned through the odd job. Word was he “got kids off the street”, but it wasn’t until years later that Finnick learned that Pleasure Island -- the very pit of Underland -- might be a bit more than an urban legend whispered by sealed lips… not that he ever really accepted that someone  _ he _ trusted was capable of such vileness.  In time, tea was brought and set down for the fennec, to which he nodded his thanks and blew on it before sipping. “So…” he continued, “What sort of task do you have for me, Mr. Big? Balance some books, set up a network…?”

The rodent’s head turned, at last, and he leaned on an arm. “No. I need you to determine the worth of something.”

He slowly sipped, glancing over the rim of his teacup, and gently grunted, “I’m…  _ not _ an appraiser, so what good will  _ I _ be?”

“You will be good to me and my family, Oscar,” he said, and casually crossed his leg over the other, “I’ve joined in a  _ very _ recent business opportunity with someone  _ very _ powerful. I’m sure you know about Felix Lapis.” Finnick about choked on his tea. “Good. He’s finally wised up, realized the scum that is Magnus Hopps… who is a shrewd businessmammal, there is no doubt about that, but he treats his own like pawns… I know this because he made  _ sure  _ I knew it.” At the fennec’s gawking, Mr. Big continued, “It was a video call, which I keep a recording of in case any of my employees need reminding that Magnus is  _ not _ to be trusted. We were at odds for a while, he and I, so one day he called in a final attempt to negotiate peaceful dealings with his mammals and mine, but when I stayed my ground, he told one of the two rabbits standing behind him to jump out the window.”

Finnick could only blink dumbly but did manage to sip his tea.

“I know screams,” the arctic shrew stated, “and that rabbit’s scream was  _ practiced _ until it  _ wasn’t _ … and then there was no screaming at all. Magnus told the other rabbit to ‘Clean that up’ and his grin didn’t falter  _ once _ . He did it to test my resolve, my  _ steel _ , that much is clear to me. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Oscar?”

Sandy ears were folded back as he gulped. “Yeah… Magnus… bad news.”

“I’m one of the few businessmammals in Zootopia that will not waste precious time on him. I stay out of Knotash and Bunnyburrow; he stays out of Tundratown and Subterraria. Felix Lapis knew this, no doubt, and contacted me last night about my newest employee, which he heard about over the grapevine,” and so he smiled to a further shocked Finnick. “The Felix was jumping at shadows, saying he could ‘trust only foxes’, and offered a short-term but lucrative business opportunity with Hexward in exchange for your services.”

“Umm…” Finnick articulated, “With all due respect, Mr. Big, but doesn’t Hexward pride itself on… you know…  _ legit _ business…?”

Mr. Big smiled some more. “I have plenty of legit businesses… my own tailoring shop was passed down from my father, and his father before him, as a single example… more and more each day, in fact, drawing away from the criminal element of Zootopia.”

“Umm…” Finnick repeated.

He waved a ringed paw. “I’m an old shrew, my child, and I can feel the mortal coil tighten around my heart with each beat… I asked myself years ago, ‘What is my legacy?’, and when all was said and done, I could only see a broken promise to my late wife, rest her soul… that I would only do what was  _ necessary  _ to keep my family safe and provided for. I’ve gone so far beyond that and lost myself to this city’s darkness, made enough enemies to last  _ generations _ … but then Judy came into my life and I felt there was still hope to fulfill that promise I made.”

The fennec’s face softened and even brightened a bit as he relaxed in his chair and thought about the gray-furred, purple-eyed rabbit of the ZPD. “Yeah, Judy is… she’s really something…” he said, but soon figured out that, perhaps, he was thinking of the wrong Judy.

“I don’t want her, my beloved granddaughter, to grow up as I did… or subjected to the same cutthroat life as my daughter, Fru-Fru. She has my steel, yes, but her mother’s heart, and if I can free her and her children of my past sins before I die, then I know I’ll have done right by them,” he said, and received a round of nodding, grunting affirmations from the polar bears. “Oscar, we do what we do for the children so that they can live a life better than ours. This task that I have for you… it is a step towards restoring my good name, a name that I want my granddaughter to know me by.”

Finnick took another moment to gather his thoughts and then realized that his teacup was empty, and so put it aside. “I think I’d rather set up a WiFi network…” he muttered under his breath, and then said aloud, “I should be able to get in contact with some appraisal experts, and compile all that data before too long…”

“Your reliability is above reproach, as I expected it would be,” Mr. Big commended, “Felix Lapis is sending one of his most trusted rabbits, Nivins McTwisp, along with a member of his legal team,” he then smirked, “A new hire and a fox, like yourself.”

The fennec’s eyebrows pinched together in doubt. “The Felix hired a fox… he  _ must _ be desperate. So, am I kit-sitting now, too?”

The arctic shrew’s ringed fingers slowly rubbed together. “Be honest, Oscar, not flippant, but I’ll overlook it for now. The vixen is actually your age, Esther Grey, and a representative of Felix Lapis, so you will treat her and McTwisp with all due respect.”

“Y-Yes, of course…” Finnick muttered. The name “Esther Grey” was immediately recognizable, she was the legal counsel of Leodore Lionheart after the Pred-Scare, after all, and the fox community wouldn’t soon forget it, even if it was not openly boasted of (foxes do not volunteer information as a general practice). He wouldn’t soon forget that she was the sister of Gideon Grey, either, some farm-fox that had the misfortune of tangling up with Nick and so got his face pinned on the darkweb for a hit job… _But still, Esther Grey…_ he pondered, “I’ll do my best to help on this, but I’ll need something first: the video call with Magnus… could I get a copy of that recording?”

Mr. Big hemmed again, “An odd request, but consider this favor done,” he said, and then nodded at Raymond, who with a flickering of his thumbs across the screen of his phone, activated the ‘message-received’ chime of Finnick’s. “If you are finished with your tea, then Koslov and Mr. Manchas will drive you to meet with the Felix’s associates,” Mr. Big said, and as the fennec questioningly glanced at Raymond, his earlier escort, continued, “Lapis is sending his closest confidante, and so shall I. It’s just business.” He dismissed them both with a wave of his paw since there was no more to discuss.

Finnick climbed down from his seat and joined the truly gargantuan polar bear, fairly certain that the very tips of his ears would not even brush the ursine kneecap. Perhaps it was for the better, though, since his enormity acted as a guard against the sudden flurries that picked up outside as they returned to the car. There, at the passenger door, stood Mr. Manchas, as though a pillar of obsidian against the wind, back straight, shoulders squared, chest out… it was hard to believe he still suffered night terrors from when he turned savage… if the hushed chit-chat from the polar bears inside was credible. Despite the two giant, powerful predators that stood on either side of Finnick, who was himself very short for a fox or even a fennec, he felt  _ big _ .

Into the car, and then onto the warmed seat he hopped, pulling out his phone as the vehicle shifted weight from Koslov’s entry. “So, uhh… I’ll be honest, I’ve never seen you leave the house without Mr. Big,” the fennec pointed out to the polar bear when the door closed and was answered only with a patient growl of disinterest. “What makes the Felix so special?”

Arctic eyes shifted from the window to the small fox, and thus cued a voice epitomizing “cold” and “dark”. “It is ‘business’,” he reiterated, and then softened into a deeper lounging position that made the car creak beneath him, “Mr. Big sees Lapis as means to end, to ‘clear good name’, and I am sent as insurance, not out of trust. This meeting will take place only wherever  _ I _ can fit, thus ruling out most if not all of Underland.”

Finnick stared blandly and blinked. “I wouldn’t think that the Felix  _ did _ business in Underland.”

Koslov chuckled, but it did not lighten the mood. “ _ All _ powerful mammals do business in Underland one way or other, is unavoidable, and McTwisp is go-between for Lapis. Very important you know this, Faire.”

“So even the  _ Felix _ has a shadow,” Finnick dared with a smirk.

“We  _ all _ have shadows,” the polar bear dismissed, and then added sardonically, “Some live in theirs more than others.”

A sandy paw scratched a sandy chin while adding two and two together. “And this, ‘clearing his good name’ of Mr. Big’s… doesn’t sit well with you, I take it.”

One clawed, snowy finger rose casually, showing the coarse pad at its tip directed to the fox. “We are associates, not friends,” the bear warned conversationally, and then glanced again out the window at the passing flurries, “Even if I do not always agree, I respect Mr. Big’s decisions, and he is decided to live in peace before death. It is ultimate goal of all who live in their shadows, whether they know it or not, except he does so for sake of grandchildren.” A pause lingered for several beats, so Finnick decided to pull out a pair of earbuds and was about to put them in when Koslov spoke up again in that same austere tone, “Do you have kits, Faire?”

Finnick begrudged the question and spun the listening device around his finger. “No, I’ve got a girlfriend, and that’s about it.”

The arctic eyes turned to the fox once more. “They are blessing and curse. ‘We do what we do for  _ them _ ’, live and die for them,” he said, voice perhaps a bit… softer, as he pulled out his phone to look at its screen, “I have cub, Morris, he makes me  _ choknútyy _ , but I would tear Zootopia from its foundations for him without a second thought,” Koslov explained, the cold and dark of his expression returning in full force, “Mr. Big is no different, and his shadow is cast over the whole city. To pull that back would be…” he then chuckled again, and again the mood did not lighten, “Very  _ big _ .”

Concerned though he was, Finnick nodded and smiled as endearingly as he might while inserting his earbuds; he knew a message when he heard it. Glancing up one last time at the arctic predator’s averted gaze, the fennec began listening privately to the video call between two iron-fisted businessmammals, an exchange which cemented everything he believed about either. When the conversation teetered on the importance of family, an ideal obviously upheld by one side more than the other, Magnus offhandedly directed a bunny to leap from a window; the scream ended abruptly. It was a message, alright, one of willingness to cross certain lines.

And then he thought about what Nick would say after seeing that, what the “practiced scream” meant, and simply let the crazy thoughts churn behind his eyes. Finnick set his jaw, forcing himself not to smirk or smile… He first needed to get confirmation from an astute fox of the law, like Esther Grey, but maybe with the right  _ key _ to leave that video  _ some _ where for  _ some _ one to find in a search warrant, he had documented proof that Magnus Hopps committed  _ murder _ …

_ Yo-ho, yo-ho… _

It was well past noon.

_ A pirate’s life for me… _

But it was still cold.

_ We’re rascals and scoundrels… _

It was never warm.

_ We’re villains and knaves… _

Not in Tundratown.

_ Drink up me hearties, yo-ho, yo-ho! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bookends of this chapter reference the "Pirates of the Caribbean" song.
> 
> "BiteCoin" is a pun on Bitcoin and "howlxadecimal" is "hexadecimal"; the latter uses the letters 'a', 'A', 'r', 'R', 'o', 'O', 'w', 'W', 'u', 'U', 'h', and 'H', and the symbols '-', '~', '!', and '...'. The code is not actually intuitive, even for canines, but it does require a canine's intuition to use it (or someone clever enough to pick up on the nuances of howling; i.e., Judy could pick up howlxadecimal if she were so inclined and if Nick hadn't led her to believe that a non-canine learning or asking about it was insensitive).
> 
> Bug Burga is part of an original concept wherein Nick and Finnick worked at a fast food place under a lion supervisor; this is true here, as well, and an uproariously hilarious set of circumstances for everyone involved except Nick, Finnick, and their lion supervisor. It was one of Nick's many attempts to return to the fold of honest wage-earning citizenry that eventually fell by the wayside when he and his fennec conspirator managed to boost the burger joint's profit margin while also attracting (or rather, draining business from) the "totally legit family restaurant" down the street; there were also some issues with Corporate about what constituted "real meat" and how vocal Nick was about its authenticity. The two events may or may not be related (Finnick is fairly tight-lipped about it).
> 
> Ladies and gentlemammals, may I present for your viewing pleasure: Mack "The Sparrow" Mallupe. As stated in previous notes, he's a combination of Capt. Jack Sparrow (from "The Pirates of the Caribbean" movies) and the Big Bad Wolf (from "Into the Woods), characters both played by Johnny Depp. In fact, if you translate "Mack Mal-lupe" into its roots, it translates to "big bad wolf" (or thereabouts); almost, anyway, since if I wanted to use the root "magna-" (which actually means "big") I would have to use "Magnus" which would be a hard no-go, so I used "Mack" instead because it rhymes with "Jack". You will find plenty of references to his roles in the aforementioned movies (i.e., "Little Bird" referring to him calling Red Riding Hood "Little Girl", and "a drawing of a key" from "PotD: Dead Man's Chest"). Also! Mack makes a cameo appearance in the Zootopia fanfic of friend and fellow author HawkTooth, "Closed Doors". Go check it out, you won't be disappointed.
> 
> "Tige pods" references the Tide pods laundry detergent, but are black and orange in color.
> 
> I learned that the first name of Mr. Manchas is "Renato". Neat!
> 
> Reference Brave, chapter 5, about Nick's 'deus ex machina'.
> 
> For the curious, Merino wool is one of the most prized in the world; no puns, just simple fact (I have seen alternate spellings of it, though).
> 
> If I might draw your attention to the center ring, we have in our midst the infamous "Honest John" Longfellow, a credit to his species. He is a reference to Honest John Worthington Vilefellow, from the movie "Pinocchio", complete with puppet show and "Pleasure Island", which we'll further explore later on in the story. I originally intended to have Nick sidelong glance whenever he said the name "Gideon", since that is the name of Honest John's feline cohort (who in this story is/would be a sock puppet) but decided against it.
> 
> Though I am wholly unfamiliar with the Russian language, much less its slang, I found the word "choknútyy" to translate roughly to "utterly bonkers" and yes, in a playful sort of way.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Gird ye, fellow shifties mine, for ye shan't cross a more treacherous lea than one filled to burst with legged clouds, whose wool and voices sing soft melodies 'pon their heath'ry downs. Eas'ly scared, they's, but none too soon might a cranky curl of ram's horns knock ya' to the moon or hooves by the hundreds leavin' none of you left but paste in the dirt to grow their grass. And they's the nice ones."
> 
> -Beautacious, golden jackal First Mate of the Mallon Port Curs

The ride back to the Grey household, where Nick kept his stuff, maintained a frivolous air specific to the idle banter and exchange of friends in transit. Upon arrival, he and Judy slipped away under the pretense of “It will only take a minute”, so Bo chatted with Lanny out on the front lawn awaiting their return. It was an empty room in which they hid, though, an extension of the house built away from the road, overlooking the nearby forest; Nick sat drained in stony silence after saying all he had to say, and Judy could only stare off through a window at the treeline beyond as she absorbed it all.

“That’s,” Judy breathed, “That’s really something, Nick.”

“Sometimes I lie awake at night, wondering if I helped Honest John kidnap children to line his pockets with gold… That’s why I could never face my parents, not when I accused them in my heart of treachery, not until I proved to myself that I was one of the good guys… and would have given up, if I never tripped over you.”

“You can’t have  _ known _ , though, what he was doing,” she rationalized.

“No… he was too sly for that; I fell for him hook-line-&-sinker,” Nick admitted, “I’m also pretty sure it was a deliciously  _ cruel  _ irony that he shared a name with my own dad… I was so blinded by spite back then…” he then released a winded sigh, “The real irony is I left my parents thinking they were the sleaziest foxes in the world for having betrayed my trust. I figured if I at least  _ knew _ I was being lied to, I could deal with it… be more careful…” his gaze then grew distant, “I saw the faces of kids that came to his puppet shows on ‘missing mammal’ posters, but was too arrogant to believe that someone  _ I _ trusted was capable of  _ that _ … He got to me, alright.

“After he went up in a fireball, he lost control of all the secrets others had on him so the blinders had to come off  _ eventually _ .” Nick chuckled, if sadly, “I’ve still got a long way to go, of course, probably the rest of my life to make up for it, but I’ll get there.”

Judy reached out and touched his arm. “You’ve saved quite a few lives in the short time you’ve been part of the ZPD. And here I was, thinking you were being some kind of braggart or thrillseeker, but you were trying to redeem yourself.”

“Such ‘un-fox-like behavior’ isn’t it, diving in nose-first with  _ complete  _ disregard for my own life…” he groaned and propped up his cheek on a fist, “It’s my kithood, all over again.”

The gray bunny leered, “And yet you had the gall to berate  _ me _ for taking stupid risks,” she teased and shoved his elbow off his knee.

“Justly so!” he haughtily declared, “I take  _ calculated _ risks, Carrots, plus I know you’ll always be there to get me out of a pinch… and vice versa.”

She scooted right into his side with a bump of her shoulder, welcoming the habitual embrace of his tail about her smaller frame. “Each and every time,” Judy said, enjoying a moment of quiet reflection with her partner-in-justice. “By the way,” she began after a span, “I can’t help but notice this  _ exquisite _ woodwork… are we sitting next to a shrine, or…?”

“This,” the fox explained, pointing a limp-wristed finger upward, “is what Goliath would call an  _ ‘ofrenda’ _ , an altar for the display of family and friends that have passed on to the great beyond. If I correctly recall my cultural immersion as a kit -- and I often  _ do _ \-- it acts as a means to keep the memories of the dearly departed alive in the hearts of those that knew them in life. There’s more that goes into it and the associated  _ Día de Muertos _ holiday, but other than a lot of food and celebration, I don’t know any specifics. I only got a glimpse of this room the last time I was here.”

“Ah  _ yes _ , the ‘Day of the Dead’, or ‘All Hallows’ Eve’ depending on your culture, not to be conflated,” Judy pondered with a grin, standing up to examine the aforementioned display of pictures adorned with marigolds, her purple eyes bouncing from one framed likeness to another, “These must be friends of the Greys’ from over the years…” Of foxes, there were two others she noticed in the handful of assorted pictures, and while mostly predators there was a single prey species, but then Judy gasped and rose up onto her toes, eyes squinting in the low light of the room. “Nick, give me a boost!” she beseeched, gazing at the picture on the very top shelf.

“All right, all right, don’t get your knickers in a knot,” he griped, and stood as much to stoop and hoist the eager bunny by her waist, grunting as she braced her feet against his chest, “Maybe we should get a chair or something.”

“I won’t be long,” the bunny dismissed, holding onto a slightly higher shelf as she peered at a picture lovingly framed and clearly very old, even if it was in color… It was of a tall vixen,  _ very _ tall though seen only from the waist up and in a festive, prismatic dress, with a set of long, dark, red wine bangs that hung over the left side of her face to show off a deep, soulful brown eye and a coy smile. “Nick… I think this is Esther’s birth mother…?”

Fox ears sprung, trying to peer over his partner’s haunches and head to catch a glimpse. “Goliath must’ve brought it with him when he and Esther escaped north,” he reasoned and resecured his grip, “I know  _ I’d _ want to keep a glossy glamour shot if I had my choice in the matter.”

The bunny grunted in doubt, reaching out to lean the framed depiction closer. “It’s not a  _ photograph _ , though; it’s a printout… a thirty-four-year-old  _ color  _ printout, at least, if it’s older than Esther.”

“But Reino del Sol wouldn’t have  _ had _ color printers back then, would it? Only the upper crust of the upper crust is considered a ‘first-world country’, last I heard,” Nick sincerely wondered, softly groaning at the continued state of his extended, load-bearing arms, but then suddenly stumbled back to a disturbed  _ ‘whoop!’ _ -ing from the rabbit as she wheeled her own arms overhead. When she looked down in query, he let her slide far enough to hold against his chest, and then tapped a finger on the wiggling nose, “ _ We _ should stop snooping.”

“Right, right,” Judy realized, and clapped his wrist to set her down, “It’s turning into a nasty habit of ours, isn’t it.”

They exchanged a grin. “I blame myself; you bunnies are  _ so _ impressionable…”

“Well,  _ I _ blame  _ my _ self, because you foxes practice  _ no _ self-control,” she  _ tsktsk _ ’d, paws on the ground once more while fixing her dress.

Nick approached the  _ ofrenda _ and leaned on a shelf, studying the framed vixen with a curious hum, “‘Mothers are strange and mysterious creatures’, indeed; whoever this  _ ravishing _ vixen is, she made it a point to keep half of her face covered with her bangs. Quick genetics question: blue eyes are recessive, correct?”

“Well-spotted, Slick, the same as green eyes, but considering where Goliath came from, I wouldn’t think blue eyes at  _ all  _ common,” Judy wondered aloud and batted her partner’s elbow to nod at the door.

“Likely not,” he agreed offhandedly, turning with a sweep of his tail to fold both paws behind his back and follow alongside his dearest bunny, “I gather that Esther hasn’t spoken a lot about her mother with you, either?”

Judy shook her head as they exited. “It’s a delicate subject, for both her and her father. If you want to turn a rugged predator like Goliath into a wilted shadow of his former self, ask him about his dead mate,” she said soberly, and rather sadly.

Nick grunted. “Let’s not pry, then. Foxes mate for life and the loss can be truly soul-crushing… which makes Ruth and Gideon something of an anomaly, but my nose is already inserted far enough into this estranged family of mine, at least in their absence,” he said academically, “Rather, let’s pry into the business of our musclier cohorts. I think we can safely assume that whatever competition of strength they’re engaged in _hasn’t_ progressed to Lanny proving that he can lift the house over his head.”

“Lanny wouldn’t do  _ that _ ,” Judy denied with a hearty chuckle, “Big sweetheart like him would hoist his  _ own _ truck before disturbing someone else’s home.” She then leaned in closer and walked a bit slower, “Have you noticed him, you know, gazing intently into space at all?”

Green eyes oscillated with thought as he hunched over in covert conversation, a common practice for the two of them, “Only when he thinks no one’s looking, and never when he’s driving, although there were quiet times when I noticed his jaw clench for no apparent reason, so I think his ‘Dawson’ is an overstayed house guest. How’s  _ yours _ doing?”

“Dormant,” she reported, to which they walked and talked casually when he nodded his head in agreement, “He gave some  _ very _ good advice, which I will listen to, that overuse might lead to dependency and severe withdrawals. I can’t say for certain, but when I first woke up this morning I  _ might _ have heard something like… what I can only describe as  _ shuffling paper _ . Hopefully, it means my Dawson is organizing a few things in my brain.”

Nick groaned as they walked in through the kitchen and out through the living room (having already acquired a day’s worth of cash from his cache), “How delightful that you’ve  _ somehow _ managed to turn a psychotic drug into a benefit. Anyway, we’re all doing this cold turkey, but Lanny had  _ much _ more than either of us littler folk, even in proportion to his substantial size. I kind of want him to stay in arm’s reach, but if he’s going back to the city…”

“Madge already released him, and she knows a  _ lot _ more about Night Howler than  _ we _ do… apparently,” Judy added, “That said, I agree with you. If Lanny’s Dawson triggers some horrible memory from his past or pred-therapy, emotional trauma would be the least of our concerns if he’s  _ driving _ . The road to the city from Bunnyburrow is no picnic, believe you me, and it’s not frequented except by semis. If he got into an accident, it could be  _ hours  _ before anyone finds him if there’s anything left of him  _ to  _ find,” she grimly considered, and then promptly shook her head to scatter the idea.

“And we can’t just  _ hold _ him or come forward with the real reason why we  _ would _ , there’s no way to explain it without opening up a whole  _ new  _ can of worms. What an outlandishly harsh pickle this is…” the fox said, “Unless… we get him to admit that any hallucinations are  _ worse _ than he’s letting on…”

“Nick,  _ no _ ,” Judy rebuked, “Probing could cascade into a full-on mental breakdown. Remember what happened with Gideon and I back in the tent on Sunday? Now imagine  _ that _ , but with  _ Lanny _ .”

Another groan of concern droned out of the fox. “Maybe we can have Bo at the ready with the rain barrel from outside? A thorough dousing worked wonders  _ then _ , as you might recall.”

The rabbit’s eyes rolled with such intensity that it sent her whole body reeling in a wobbly spin. “If you absolutely, positively  _ must _ ask him about his Dawson, just be, you know…”

“Discreet? Always.”

“ _ Conscientious _ .”

“A little trickier…”

“Remember, you had to deal with Dawson  _ on your own _ , which I’m sure was a trial-and-a-half, scatterbrain that you are,” she kindly pointed out, “and as cool-headed as Lanny is, I doubt he has your masterful composure to fall back on.” Their ears sprung to a knock on the front door. Casually as she liked, Judy approached with Nick in tow to open it… and then gestured for him to do it instead since  _ he _ was the fox in a fox household. Green eyes rolled as a ‘gloved’ paw reached out to pull the handle and yank it open.

Squatting outside was a concerned Lanny, one paw bracing above the doorframe and the other pointing over his shoulder. “We need your ruling on something important,” he said, stone-faced, “There’s this cloud that  _ I _ say looks like a cinnamon roll, but Bo says it looks like a  _ tractor _ ,” he emphasized with a scoff.

“It  _ is _ a tractor!” the boy rabbit called from a ways off.

“Cultural bias!” the lion retorted over his shoulder.

“You’re just thinking with your stomach!”

“Is that a crack at me being a  _ predator _ ?” Lanny demanded, rising up a bit more.

“Was  _ that _ a crack at me being a  _ farm _ -bunny?” Bo shot back, closer and standing.

“Whoop!” Nick enunciated and leaned in towards Judy with a grin, “Looks like the strength contest hasn’t begun  _ quite  _ yet.”

“ _ I’ll _ settle this,” Judy determined and marched out onto the lawn, the lion following while the fox laughed, closing and locking the door behind him. “Which one?” she inquired, arms crossed and hips cock when positioned adjacent to Bo, and so he craned his neck and pointed towards the sky. Judy rubbed her chin and hummed in thought, ignoring the sharp glances between the brown bunny and the squatting lion behind her. “ _ Hydrangea macrophylla _ ,” she judged, and began to point out the “Stem, seed-vessel, petals,” to Bo, who then softly grunted in wary acceptance; to Lanny, she twirled her wrist, “And that swirl in the center with the lighter cloud on top could resemble a glazed cinnamon roll, but it  _ is _ a flower.”

Lanny’s tail whisked behind him. “Okay, I guess it’s kinda… flowery,” he muttered under his breath, “Wonder if Gid’ll have cinnamon rolls…”

Nick laughed still as he addressed his phone, thumbs tapping at the screen.

* * *

Gideon stood still as he addressed his phone, thumbs brushing at the screen.

“An order, at last?” Travis Blackfoot asked, a ferret nigh lounging upon the baker’s kitchen counter and boasting a “Just Zoo It” jersey and basketball shorts of mismatched orange-and-black tiger stripes, all hanging off his svelte frame but not for any athletic purpose, rather for comfort and convenience. It was warm that day and he was walking to the bus stop outside of Preds’ Corner when he spotted and hitched a ride in Gideon’s van. From there, he repaid the trip with some light banter, friendly chatting, and a cup of percolation from the local coffee chain. Their first contact after sixteen years apart was an unexpected phone call the day prior, so the ride was their official reunion, and while a certain ambient tension did linger from their separation, there was also mutual gratitude that they could see, and look at, each other again.

“Naw,” a chuckling fox replied but then reconsidered and tucked his phone away into a back pocket, “Well, sorta? Nick says Lanny’s cravin’ cinnamon rolls, so I’d best get to work. Goodness knows, they’ll prob’ly be my only ‘customers’ today, dead quiet as it’s been all morning.”

“Sadly but truly, Bunnyburrow won’t see any kind of regular business until the TBR finishes. Of course, I know there are plenty of  _ other _ establishments deemed worthy to vend  _ their _ wares all this week…” he opined, sipping at his caramel-mint mocha latte with extra whipped cream, sleek tail tip dangling off the edge of his resting surface while leaning on an arm.

“Now now,” Gideon rebuked, wagging his finger after grabbing a sip of his straight black coffee, “I’m the first fox in the TBR, even if I were there jus’ to host a contest. It’s a mighty fine step forward all the same, and I got plenty of publicity on top of it.”

“ _ Yes _ , and one might actually open up shop at the  _ next _ TBR… in twenty years.”

“Li’l steps, Trav, jus’ like Ma used to say. And you get your tail off my counter,” the fox further rebuked with a shooing of his paw, “I pride myself in an impossibly clean kitchen.”

“ _ Impeccably _ ?”

“Yeah, that. I keep my stuff tidy, is what I’m tryin’ to say. So, you grab yourself a chair if you wanna sit,” he explained and then got out some bowls, flour, sugar (both white and brown), almond cream and butter, and eggs to begin the task of making from-scratch cinnamon rolls in a quick-like manner.

“A far cry from when you could hardly be bothered to wash your paws before -- or  _ after _ \-- eating,” Travis remarked, finding himself a seat upon an upturned crate, instead, “Remember when you jumped into that algae-filled pond, and then went straight to school?”

Gideon laughed again as he set the oven to preheat before a thorough washing of said paws. “Oh, yeah! That li’l lamb Sharla was hidin’ from us but slipped in and got her knee hurt, so she started  _ panickin’ _ and  _ splashin’  _ and her wool was soakin’ up all the water.”

Travis softly moaned in mixed remorse and nostalgia, reclining against the wall with one leg crossed over the other. “We called her everything under the sun for doing so ‘fool’ a thing as falling into a pond… all the while carrying her to the nurse’s office.”

“School was the closest place she could get her knee looked at,” the fox said offhandedly, mixing the water, cream, and butter before putting it into the microwave to melt, “We was only tryin’ to spook her a bit, not  _ hurt _ her, so we couldn’t jus’  _ leave _ her out there.”

“Because it was  _ wrong _ or because there’d be proof of our nefarious activities?”

The fox paused and chewed his bottom lip as he combined the dry ingredients. “I guess it was more the proof part at the  _ time _ , but it would’ve been wrong all the same to not help her,” he said quietly while retrieving the newly nuked components. After cracking the egg he began to mix the dough for the rolls, arm whisking up a maelstrom in a bowl, “O’ course, I ain’t sayin’ it was  _ alright _ , because she still got hurt tryin’ to get away from us, but… umm…”

“We were stupid kits doing stupid things for stupid reasons.”

“Yeah,” Gideon agreed and bundled the dough on a flour-sprinkled cutting board for a thorough kneading, “Tha’s pretty elegant, Trav.”

Travis chuckled. “‘ _ Eloquent’ _ , you mean?”

“That.”

The ferret overhanded his empty coffee cup into a trashcan, and watched the fox’s back shift and flex as he worked the dough. He sighed but smiled, “You used to hate when I corrected you.”

“‘Used to’, oper’tive word,” the baker said with a grin over his shoulder, thought, and then corrected himself, “ _ Words _ .”

“Your vocabulary has even increased,” he muttered in a removed manner of speaking, as if he’d only just decided something while watching the ‘gloved’ paws fold and pound and roll and smooth the dough before setting it inside another bowl. The ferret stood and approached when the baker’s attention was so invested on mixing the cinnamon and brown sugar for the filling -- thus, his arms significantly less active -- and hugged him.

The fox’s ears warmed the slightest bit as his tail flicked off to the side. “Oh,  _ uhh… _ ” he muttered, glimpsing over his shoulder only to snap his gaze forward again. What stayed him was not the embrace itself, but the conflicting reactions of wanting to jump and spin and flail that someone was touching his back,  _ pressed _ to his back that he was not expecting… and yet it was like a broken light switch. He felt it  _ there _ , but no desire to act on it, other than a singular, momentary flinch. His paws slowed to a stop as he looked down at them and then glanced off to the side, keeping his lids low.

“I’m sorry, Gid…”

Clawed fingers relinquished the cooking utensils to softly rake the countertop. “Wha’ for…?”

“Just…  _ everything _ ,” the ferret said with the faintest choke, and hugged a bit tighter, “For… for  _ betraying _ you…” The statement weighed heavily in the air and the ferret pressed closer, as though it would be the first and last time of his life he could do such a thing, and didn’t want to forget it. “If I hadn’t egged you on, kept you bullying…” Travis confessed, trembling with his face buried into the other’s back, “they wouldn’t have taken you away… I can’t ever apologize enough for that, Gid, I… I didn’t  _ know _ what they wanted with you, I  _ couldn’t  _ know, I just… I was just…”

“We were… stupid kits,” he eventually said. Gideon then breathed as he peered over his shoulder with a fairly bewildered set of blue eyes.

Amber eyes looked up, a bit glassy as they were over a lopsided smile, “…Doing stupid things for stupid reasons,” the ferret finished.

“Yeah, that…” Gideon muttered, smiling somewhat awkwardly, “Sorry, I guess I spaced out a bit there.”

Travis squeezed around his friend’s chest once more before releasing the hug. “So… do you forgive me…?” he asked amidst the lighter air and leaned on the counter nearby.

“O’ course I  _ do _ , Trav,” Gideon playfully scoffed, reaching out to push the ferret’s head, and then took up a knife to cut out strips from the dough for the dark, sweet filling, “Heck, even after ev’rything’s said and done, I never blamed  _ you _ for it.”

An enunciated groan responded both to the mitt of a paw nudging at his noggin and with audible confusion. “ _ What _ ? All these years, I thought you  _ hated _ me for what I did?” the ferret nearly demanded.

“Sure, I was  _ upset _ that you never came ‘round anymore, but I weren’t  _ mad _ and I certainly never thought you stabbed me in the back…?”

“But!” Travis gasped, running a paw through his fur while gesticulating with the other, “When you returned I tried to pull the hood off your head, and then you  _ screamed _ and said you’d ‘never show me your back again’. Not to mention you still had your whittling knife-”

Gideon put his cutting knife down and turned to face his friend. “Travis, I said that because-” he began, paused with a single finger held up, and then continued as steadily as he could, “Listen, I remember first seein’ you when I got back, but I don’t… y’know, remember  _ too _ much of what happened, only bein’ right frightened and, yes, screamin’. So… if I sent the wrong message, then I’m-”

“ _ No _ ,” Travis immediately and sympathetically interrupted, “Please, you have nothing to apologize for, Gid. I just… I need to understand what I had  _ wrong _ these sixteen years, why you went ‘Grey eyed’ when-”

“Hey, now, I ain’t  _ ever _ had ‘Grey eye’.”

“You did  _ so _ !” the ferret shot back, “I know what it looks like, I’d seen it on Esther plenty of times, but I’ve seen it on  _ you _ only the once…”

Gideon was staggered and frowning, and then touched his mouth in thought. “I… I s’pose I’d never know if it happened or not, no one’s ever  _ told _ me, not in all the years I been a bully…”

“Again, never have I seen your eyes turn silver… not until you got back from pred-therapy…” Travis explained, and then looked away and rubbed his arm to bitterly tack on, “Not that anyone  _ believed _ me when I said that’s where you went…”

“How’d you…?”

“I… I  _ saw _ the news report. How they described the victims that they knew about fit you to a  _ tee _ : the drastic change in your habits, adopting tedious and pointless activities… you spent all day whittling down a block of wood into a splinter,” he explained, and then grew mildly angry, “But whenever and to whomever I mentioned it, the answer was always ‘Pred-therapy was only for criminals,  _ not  _ juvenile delinquents’. Now, I  _ know _ that’s where they sent you… I just… don’t have any  _ proof _ or  _ precedence… _ because only  _ adults _ were ever sent there…”

The fox sighed and bit his bottom lip, arms crossed and brow furrowed with an intense concentration. Quite clearly, it was not a conversation he was ready to have. “How ‘bout… how ‘bout he jus’ let bygones be bygones? I was a bundle of bad emotions back then, and there were times when… when I wasn’t in my right mind. That makes sense, yeah?”

“It  _ does _ …” the ferret conceded, and by his own posturing, did not seem ready for the topic of discussion either, “Okay, you’re right, like Tim & Bob say: ‘You got to put your past behind you’,” he recounted, and as Gideon grunted in wary but cheerful affirmation to return to his cinnamon rolls, so continued with the abrupt but welcome change of subject, but not before a few awkward beats passed, “By the way, I realize I don’t know who this ‘Lanny’ guy is, for whom you are making these confectionary delights. Care to elaborate?”

“Oh! Yeah, Lanny’s a nurse that came in from the city to help Dr. Honey with the clinic, since all the rest of Preds’ Corner is off on that cruise,” the baker said as he liberally applied the sweet innards along each strip of dough.

The ‘masked’ face widened its eyes in rapt surprise. “Wait… that truck-sized lion I’ve seen driving about all weekend? You’re making cinnamon rolls for  _ him _ because Nick asked you to?”

“Well…” the fox paused, though only in his speaking as he began the ‘roll’ part of the recipe to then place each one into a foil-lined tray, “To be honest, I’m more bakin’ for the  _ both _ of ‘em, and I s’pose for Judy and Bo, too, of course, if they want some. But it’s… a li’l out there, the story behind it all… Nick can tell it better than I can.”

“Perhaps just the cliff notes, then?”

“Sure, don’t see anything wrong with that,” Gideon pondered, “Lanny’s been helpin’ Nick and Judy with official city business. I bet you heard about  _ weird stuff _ goin’ on around here, huh?” he nearly whispered.

Travis blinked rapidly, and then whispered back with growing interest, “I…  _ did _ …”

“Well, that’s all a private citizen like  _ me _ can talk about, I’m afraid,” he said with a grin, normal tone once again, “But they’ll be by to pick these up,” and nodded towards the tray-full of soon-to-be-baked goods before sliding them into the hot but turned-off oven, so that the dough might first rise, “So, you can ask ‘em then.”

“ _ Tease _ ,” he snarled, but with good humor as he crossed his arms in an exaggerated huff. As the oven door closed and the pastry chef clapped his paws to turn and begin making the frosting, a soft bell jingled from out in the storefront. They exchanged glances of questioning excitement. “Is that…?” Travis hushed with his neck craned over a shoulder.

“Might be!” Gideon also hushed, and quickly clapped his apron to get some of the flour off before straightening his bangs.

“Should I…?” he suggested and nodded towards the storefront.

“No no,  _ I _ should; my shop and all.”

“Right, right, maybe if I weren’t wearing a sports jersey,” Travis agreed, hurriedly walking behind Gideon, “And stop fussing, you look fine,” he then assured and grabbed him by the shoulders to push him out of the kitchen.

Around the doorway sauntered Gideon with his best smile. “Hello, welcome to Gideon’s!” he announced and took his place behind the counter, “Please excuse the empty shelves, I didn’t want stuff growing stale, what with the TBR going on and all, but I can have something whipped up for ya’ in half-a-wink, right easy.”

Around turned a vixen of notable confidence, removing her hat to hold it behind her, eyebrows quirked as she glanced about at the vacant display cases, few though they were. “Yes, I quite noticed…” she politely observed with certain cordiality, and then quietly sniffed at the air, “The lingering scent of baked goods is still there, though, aside from the… fresh cinnamon rolls, I think…? You said your name was  _ ‘Gideon’ _ . Have you been here long?” she asked in approach of the counter.

“Yes, ma’am, Gideon Grey, and I’ve been here for well over a year now.”

“Gideon  _ Grey _ …” she mused, head canting to study his face. To which he, in turn, studied hers.

“Y’know… I’m sure you ain’t from around here, but you’re  _ awful _ familiar,” he began, blue eyes narrowing in concentration before nearly jumping from his fur, “Whoa, you’re-!” he then laughed and clapped his forehead, “Sorry, ma’am, I always could spot a face out of a hundred but never with a name to it… Travis, c’mere!” he then called to the kitchen, and as if on cue, a ‘masked’ face popped into view.

The vixen giggled at the reaction, and spotting the lankier of the two, said, “That would make  _ you _ Travis… Blackfoot, correct?”

Amber eyes studied the older fox raptly, yet unresponsive as he held his chin in swift approach if remaining on the other side of the counter. “That’s correct, ma’am, a pleasure to remake your acquaintance and unless I’m  _ very _ much mistaken,  _ you _ are Mrs… umm…” he began and snapped his fingers, looking to Gideon’s face as if the answer were written on it somewhere, “Basker, no… Barker?  _ Barker _ ! Mrs. Barker!” he declared to her vaguely affirming smile.

“Mrs. Barker!” the younger vulpine agreed, “We ain’t seen you since… gosh, twenty years, now?”

“A pleasure to see you two kits again,” the vixen endeared, looking between them both with a bright smile, even if she then adopted a solemn demeanor, “Yes, I was only in town for a month, and I do remember meeting with both the Greys and the Blackfoots, along with every family in Preds’ Corner…”

“I don’t suppose this has something to do with the Prince’s Guard, does it?” Travis probed, arms loosely crossed with one hanging limp over the other.

“Oh, goodness,  _ no _ ,” she dismissed with a soft laugh, “You could say I’m here for the Reunion, and when I heard about a ‘fox bakery’ in town, I figured I could support a local shop-owner before filling up on deep-fried, fairground food.”

“Well, like I said, I’m awful sorry for my lack of options t’day, I wasn’t expecting walk-ins of any kind, but I’d be more than happy to whip up something for ya’?” Gideon again offered.

“That would be  _ lovely _ , thank you,” the vixen said, “You needn’t bother with anything  _ fancy _ , though, we’ll be happy to take some day-olds off your paws.”

“ _ Ah _ , would that ‘we’ be you and  _ Mr. _ Barker?” Travis inferred with a grin, standing by to keep the vixen company while Gideon went into the back to gather up the requested, discounted ‘really good baked stuffs’, “As I recall, he didn’t join you the last time you came to town.”

“Yes, that would definitely be him,” she confirmed amiably enough, but then lowered her voice with concern, “By the  _ way _ , I don’t know how valid they are, but I’ve heard some particularly  _ nasty _ rumors about a ram that lives down the street from here…?”

Travis leaned forward on the counter, sleek tail wheeling behind him. “Trust me, Mrs. Barker; I knew that ram when I lived here almost ten years ago, and I’ve seen others like him in the city, and while he was definitely a peeping tom that’s not the worst of it. Now, not to further inflame any hearsay, but I hear say that he  _ kidnapped _ some visiting predators while the rest of Bunnyburrow was preoccupied with the TBR,” he reported and then tapped the side of his nose.

“Oh no…  _ kidnapped _ ?”

“Oh yes,” the ferret affirmed, and glimpsed over his shoulder again, “for the Black Sheep Market if you can believe it…”

“How absolutely  _ terrible _ !”

“Luckily, the sheriff’s office caught him and his cohorts before anything could happen, but the thought of it makes my pelt crawl all the same,” he continued, “and while the victims’ names haven’t yet been released to the public, it’s my understanding that they were  _ foxes _ .”

“Dear  _ me _ …” the vixen worried, “Well, a fair warning to my mate and I, Mr. Blackfoot, and for that we thank you. Goodness, though,  _ ‘kidnapping’ _ , and around the TBR, no less,” she realized, “It’s the Missing Prince, all over again…”

“Thus, my question about the Prince’s Guard,” the ferret discreetly continued, almost crawling up on the counter to lean in closer, “As I recall, that’s why you came to town twenty years ago, wasn’t it?”

She grinned all the same, “You’re  _ quite  _ astute and correct; I came with some other members of my neighborhood Watch to aid in the search,” and then sighed, “For all the good it did.”

“Sadly but truly…”

In due time after the idle chit-chat which followed, Gideon returned as a sweet, warm aroma filled the bakery once more, and onto the counter he placed a box emblazoned with his smiling pie logo. “Those smell absolutely  _ delicious _ , Mr. Grey,” she commended, glimpsing inside to see a baker’s dozen of buns glazed and powdered with sugar, and pulled a twenty-note from her wallet while the younger fox worked out her receipt.

“Please, Mrs. Barker, ‘Mr. Grey’ is my Pa,” he chuckled to a merry chime of the register, “You can call me ‘Gideon’.”

“And  _ you _ can keep the change,” she responded, closing her wallet to stow it into her purse as she picked up the box, “It was a pleasure reacquainting with you both.”

“Tha’s right kind of you, ma’am. You and Mr. Barker have fun at the TBR, okay?”

“Take care, Mrs. Barker,” Travis bid, and when the bell for the door rang for her departure and her visage left the window, he exchanged knowing expressions with Gideon. “Thoughts?”

“I seen enough of Essy’s schemes to spot it in other vixens,” he said curtly, though grinning as he sauntered back into the kitchen, ferret in tow, “She weren’t  _ really _ named ‘Mrs. Barker’, was she?”

“No she ‘weren’t’,” he agreed, changing over which counter he leaned on as the baker began frosting the hot, fresh cinnamon rolls. “I know acting when I see it, both good and bad come through my theatre, and while she is  _ exemplary _ in her role, it is a role all the same. Maybe she was simply fishing for local gossip, but for what  _ reason  _ I cannot begin to fathom…”

“Prob’ly don’t even have a ‘Mister’, neither. Maybe she’s one of them Lookers that came ‘round because she was def’nitely here twenty years back. I’m pretty good with faces, y’know.”

“There’s no denying that she’s remarkably familiar, but in another way I can’t quite put my finger on,” Travis considered, watching the even application of sugary white cream painted across each swirled bun, “And not a passing familiarity, like walking by on the streets, but as if… Okay, so, you know that artists have certain styles to their craft, well, the same goes for actors, we have ‘mannerisms’,” he briefly explained to a listening Gideon, “And  _ she _ , this so-called ‘Mrs. Barker’, has mannerisms I’ve  _ seen _ somewhere before…” he then groaned, “this is going to bug me all day, I swear.”

The cinnamon rolls were placed inside another lined, carrying box with the baker’s logo smiling on the top and sides. “Too bad Nick ain’t here, he’d prob’ly have her name, address, and favorite breakfast cereal by the time she finished saying ‘Hello’,” he said with a hearty laugh.

For a moment, the ferret beamed at the joviality, something he perhaps had not seen in too long a time. He then blinked and rubbed his chin, “Nick, the ‘Great Fox Detective’…” Gideon snickered and was about to comment before a set of fingers snapped in revelation. “Nick! She reminds me of  _ Nick _ !” Travis declared, and ran back to the doorway to lean out it, as if expecting the vixen to still be there, “You said that Nick’s mom, Jackie, was your aunt, right, but you never  _ met  _ her? What if that  _ was  _ her? I mean… I don’t know  _ why _ she wouldn’t come out and say it, but the way she held her hat behind her back, the arch of her eyebrows, even the disarming ease of casual but entrusting conversation. It was like talking to an older, female Nick Wilde.”

“No  _ way _ that was Aunt Jackie,” Gideon coolly denied, smothering his paws in a towel to wipe them clean, and when his friend mutely expressed a demand for proof, the fox further explained with a roll of his eyes, “The ‘Savage Greens’? Nick’s got ‘em and Ma’s got ‘em, so that means that Nick’s mom’s got ‘em,  _ too _ .”

Travis groaned his stun as both arms crossed in thought, “That  _ is _ how inherited traits work, and that Mrs. Barker had  _ brown _ eyes, not green… I mean, they were  _ flecked _ with green, so maybe that counts?”

“What do I look like, a  _ gymnacist _ ?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s pronounced  _ ‘gymnast _ ’, but you probably meant  _ ‘geneticist’ _ .”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, you don’t look like either,” Travis answered, and for his snark earned a towel thrown in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ofrenda, at least in the context of this story, comes from the Pixar movie, "Coco".
> 
> The mental breakdown that Judy references is from Trustworthy, chapter 14.
> 
> Travis's "Just Zoo It" jersey is a pun on Nike's motto, "Just Do It", part of Disney's promotional campaign for the movie; the tiger stripe patterns reference the tiger in said ad.
> 
> Sharla is the black-wooled lamb from the beginning of the movie (she's named in the credits) and the older sister of Gareth, the white-wooled lamb from the same segment (he appeared back in Trustworthy, chapter 16); the credits didn't give their surname, for the sake of this story, they share it with their voice actor, Madeleine Curry. Nowadays, Sharla is training at the Zootopian Aeronautics and Space Administration (ZASA) to be launched up to the International Space Station for work on its rockets.
> 
> Speaking of, here we have another reference to the morbid "Black Sheep Market", an idea cooked up by me and my fellow friend and writer, Nievelion (used in "To Mend a Broken Hart", here on AO3; go read it!). The premise behind it is that leather and glue and all other such commonplace animal products are still in the world of Zootopia... only to them, they are made from people, and the name comes from that sheep are usually the ones who run or participate in it, and the "black wool" (not to be conflated with sheep who have naturally dark wool) comes from the dried blood. Now, not all animal products are bad in of themselves (after all, wool is still a commonplace product) but it's not always... taken willingly; refer back to the fox-fur cigarettes during Judy's head-trip back in Trustworthy. It's not... unknown by the populace at large, per se, but it might be exaggerated as to how prolific or gruesome it is in some cities; in some places outside of Zootopia and its nation, what some might consider the "Black Sheep Market" is actually an integral part of the economy of third world countries.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular belief, it is quite possible for a tiger to change their stripes but the process is long, tedious, and either expensive or can cause irreparable harm to the tiger's fur.

Lanny couldn’t remember the last time his truck was so  _ clean _ . There was no lingering smell of old soda or fries, nothing shifting around in the back seat when he drove (aside from his luggage, of course), and the bunnies that cleared out his clutter even pulled down the pine tree air fresheners that piled up behind his rearview mirror. Additionally, they got the vacuum from Gideon’s house out to the road with a few extension cords to suck up any debris off the truck’s floor (he couldn’t pull into the Greys’ driveway since the sheer size of his vehicle would have crushed the fence and mailbox).

As he drove from Preds’ Corner to the outskirts of Bunnyburrow Proper, he nearly bounced in his seat with giddy anticipation for the cinnamon rolls which Nick so slyly hinted at, having purposefully made a show of sending off a text message to Gideon as he did. The lion would enjoy the baked goods on his drive back into the city, but then his mood took a dip when the dashboard-mounted phone chimed with a traffic alert.

“Uh oh,” cooed a voice in the back of Lanny’s mind, causing his jaw and knuckles to clench, “ _ That  _ can’t be good.”

_ It doesn’t exist, it’s imaginary, _ Lanny repeated to himself, eyes darting to the quieted (maybe muted…) interactions between the two rabbits and the fox sharing the front bench of his truck,  _ It doesn’t exist, it’s imaginary… _

“Hey, I get it, you’re stressed out and still grappling with the idea that you just  _ might _ be teetering off the deep end,” came the unnervingly calm and amiable voice of a giant, glowing blue fox that Lanny  _ knew _ floated directly behind him. The lion was fairly big for his species, and except for polar bears, tigers, elephants, and rhinos, didn’t expect others to be bigger still. But the blue  _ fox _ was not only taller but broader and looked more than capable of throwing Lanny over his shoulder like a cub. He didn’t  _ begin _ that big, either, but rather normal-sized and then just kind of  _ grew _ … such an implication that its hold on his mind strengthened was not a comforting thought, either. “You should take a look at that traffic alert, though… could be important, couldn’t it?” was insisted.

After kneading the steering wheel, a tawny paw unlocked from its grip to jab a wary finger at the alert on his phone: “Zootopia Sound Highway expected to experience high volume commercial traffic. Drivers are advised to avoid the ZSH for the remainder of the afternoon,” it read.  _...Crud, _ Lanny rued with a powerful, if gravelly exhale. He then cleared his throat when he noticed his three passengers staring up at him.

“They know…” the imaginary fox dramatically revealed, “They know that you have a ‘Dawson’.”

_ You don’t exist, therefore, you don’t have a name, _ Lanny argued, his jaw clenching tighter,  _ Hallucinations do not have names! _ He then turned an awkward smile towards the rabbits and red,  _ real _ fox, “Oh, don’t mind me. I just found out that the ZSH isn’t safe for non-commercial drivers, at least for the afternoon. I guess I’m staying in Bunnyburrow until nightfall.”

“Bummer about that, Lanny,” Bo sympathized, “But hey, you could always hang with us at the TBR? The Lookers shipped out hours ago, at least the bulk of them, so if anyone’s still skulking about,” he said, and thumped his chest proudly, “Just point them  _ my _ way, and I’ll take care of them.”

“Really?” Lanny wondered.

“You betcha! Sheriff Longmare put her hoof down to ‘either come for the TBR or go home, none of this Missing Prince business’. Apparently, there were more than a few lions, like yourself, voicing complaints about the Lookers harassing them.”

“Now I feel kind of silly hiding from them all of yesterday,” he muttered, “I guess it couldn’t hurt to enjoy myself for a  _ few _ hours… I snuck a few smells and sounds, and it really did seem fun…”

“‘Every cloud has a silver lining’,” Judy agreed, and then exchanged a curiously knowing glance with Nick, “We’ll make a day of it! If you’ve never been to a farm fair out in Bunnyburrow, then you are in for a  _ treat _ . I went to the TBR back when I was six, and I still cherish those memories today.”

“I spent almost all of yesterday afternoon walking the grounds --  _ only _ walking it -- and haven’t covered  _ half _ of what there was to see,” Bo enthusiastically reported.

“I spent all that time sleeping, but in the hike from the parking lot to the tractor pull, I was actually a  _ little _ excited to check it out myself,” Nick confessed, and then pinched his fingers together, “And  _ not _ only for the over-abundance of foods available, which you’ll now have the chance to partake in,” he said before shifting gears in the conversation as he began to wonder, “Still, it sounds like a  _ lot _ of commercial traffic on the ZSH…”

“Knotash moving trucks,” the blue fox said.

“Must be those moving trucks from Knotash,” the red fox said.

Lanny said nothing, only grunting in curious affirmation of the logical leap matching his own, one such in a long line of increasingly frequent chains of induction since he woke up that morning. Every other fiber of his being, however, dedicated itself to ignoring the minor psychosis that he managed to sequester to the back of his mind.

“I know I said they’d be ‘gone by the afternoon’, but I figured it would be closer to evening,” the brown bunny worried, “I guess those from Knotash want to leave Bunnyburrow before sundown.”

“To get all of those trucks out here so  _ quickly _ , though, and going over the Felix’s ears, no less,” Judy picked up, “City-bunnies are sticklers for schedules, more so than us out in the country, so to execute such a  _ drastic _ change in the timetable…”

Bo grumbled in thought. “You know, I’d  _ bet _ it’s all those raven sightings I heard about over the radio,” he realized, and turned up his walkie-talkie a bit louder to listen in, “Nothing recent since this morning, but if I know my Tenets, all those prim city-bunnies are quaking at the thought of so many ill omens.”

“Fear  _ is _ an excellent motivator,” the girl bunny said, “Mr. Barley should be able to keep things running smoothly, though, I hope.”

“Definitely. If anyone can organize a panicked, mass exodus,  _ he _ can,” Bo said, “I feel like I should be there helping, but my duty is to keep an eye on  _ Nick _ -”

“Nick and ravens, hmm…” the glowing blue fox mused. Lanny glanced at the lounging red fox (notably, not glowing), suspicion warring with the profound gratitude that he felt for him, considering the tremendous, emotional load Nick only just helped him with back at the hospital.

“Mr. Barley was  _ very _ clear on that,” the boy bunny concluded, and then grinned, “No more ‘communing with specters’, right Gloves?”

“I do hereby swear off  _ all _ supernatural activity,” Nick assured, holding up a lazy paw, “until it directly benefits me and the cost not  _ too _ steep. I am a  _ practical _ fox, after all.”

“But what about  _ wolves  _ and ravens?” the imaginary fox continued, “Wolves like the  _ Mallupes _ .”

“Well…” Lanny muttered under his breath, “There was that… Lory Mallupe you spoke with earlier.  _ She _ had ravens following her.”

Both bunnies looked at Nick. Nick looked back with a roll of his eyes, “I  _ really _ don’t see what that has to do with anything. ‘Raven’ was never even mentioned in the few words of small talk we exchanged, and neither did I so much as  _ imply _ that I needed anything from her,” he briskly explained, “Again, the ravens have absolutely  _ nothing _ to do with me, and I’ll thank  _ you _ lot to stop resting all blame on yours truly.”

“Alright, sorry…” Lanny replied, shying at the furrowed, sidelong glance of the fox.

“Well, you act behind the scenes so much, Slick, it’s no wonder you’re suspected as often as you are,” Judy retorted, “It wouldn’t kill you to operate out in the open every once in a while, or at the very least include someone else in whatever you’ve got planned.”

“I…” Nick began cautiously, shying some at the harsher gaze of the gray bunny, “told…  _ Lanny _ , as it so happens. And Gid,” he boasted, “See? Already, that’s  _ two _ others I’ve included in my mid-morning scheming which -- I’d like to add -- is already concluded with a confirmation text from Esther.  _ And _ , all before either you or Bo showed up. So,  _ there _ .”

Bo groaned, “Nick, I was  _ hoping _ that you wouldn’t cause trouble before I got to Preds’ Corner…”

“This is  _ exactly _ why Chief Bogo mixes chamomile tea in with his coffee,” Judy berated in equal parts frustration and amusement.

“Watch, he’s going to ask for your help next,” the blue fox said.

“Lanny, how about a little back up for your fellow predator over here?” the red fox said.

“You…” the lion proceeded to answer after a calming breath, “have a way of  _ complicating _ things, Nick, and granted you also manage to figure everything out in the end. It can get…  _ confusing _ for those of us that, perhaps, need some more time to…  _ understand _ , I guess?”

“Hmm…” Nick considered, “I  _ do _ tend to go a bit faster than others, don’t I.”

“And that’s all I’m saying,” Judy concurred, and then touched her partner’s arm, “Just… say your plans aloud sometimes, that way the rest of us can help you in them.”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking from Judy and then to Lanny, and then to Bo, “And  _ you’re _ in agreement, Punch?”

“Oh my stars,  _ yes _ ,” he blurted out as nonchalantly as possible, “If it was at all possible to get a  _ guide _ or a  _ manual _ to how your brain works, I’d be sure to always keep one within arm’s reach,” and then gestured accordingly to the truck’s own convenience-based container of the front seat, “Ideally, I’d keep it in the ‘Gloves’ compartment.”

The cab of the truck lingered for a split second before Nick sputtered and covered his mouth as it split open to join the lion in a sudden round of uproarious guffaws. Judy followed suit soon enough in the diffusion of a mildly tense situation… mild for the passengers, at least, since Lanny’s nerves were being ridden by the disembodied voice that was, also, laughing; merrily, but still laughing such that Lanny felt the need to drown it out with his own.

“I walked right into that one…” Nick commended and wiped the corner of his eye, but soon held out both his paws over Judy’s head in presentation to Bo, “Up-high, double this time,” he offered and was paid a dual clap of palms (and even though slightly crowded, Judy squeaked a giggle of approval).

“ _ And _ ,” Bo proceeded to say, “do you  _ promise _ that you didn’t employ the help of ravens today?”

Nick smiled and held out his paws in acceptance, “May lightning strike me down if I did.”

Judy beamed and then tugged the seatbelt she and Bo shared for enough slack to slip out from it and stand in his lap. “Brace,” she instructed, and his brown mitts crossed over her haunches to secure her stance as she looked out over the dashboard, “Thank you,” she sweetly added before saying, “Alright, Lanny, you’ll want to take a left up here. Your GPS will use the direct road to Gid’s bakery, but there’s a good chance that Tad’s pawn shop is still under investigation, not to mention the lookie-loos from the neighbors. Best to avoid it for now.”

“They must have found contraband in his inventory, or something,” Bo suggested.

“There is a  _ lot _ of his stuff to go through, trust me on this, and I do not envy the deputy that drew the short straw on  _ this _ one,” Nick reviled, “To top it all off, his cousin is a drug dealer and smuggler from the city -- that he obviously kept in contact with -- so I wouldn’t doubt if the sheriff’s office tripped over  _ ‘something’ _ in that quaint little shop of his.”

“Hey, let’s ask Nick what Tad was up to,” the hallucination suggested to Lanny, “Dr. Honey’s thoughts on the matter were just a  _ teensy _ bit confusing, weren’t they?”

_ I don’t need to know what Tad did, _ Lanny asserted, _ He kidnapped Nick, and Gideon’s sister, that’s all I know about; that’s all that concerns me. _

“Yeah, but you’re the only one of your friends here that  _ doesn’t _ , aren’t you? I’m sure half of Bunnyburrow knows, and that’s only because the  _ other  _ half is visiting.”

“I don’t need to know!” Lanny asserted again, but  _ aloud _ .

“I feel ya’, Freight, believe me, I  _ do _ ,” Nick immediately responded, “but the fact of the matter is, I was the one that found out he was still at  _ it _ ,” and shuddered in his seat before glowering out the window, “It makes one’s pelt crawl.” He grunted as Judy nimbly hopped from Bo’s lap to his.

“Brace,” she again instructed, and got a weary sigh as ‘gloved’ paws held her waist so that she might look out the passenger’s side window, “Slow down a smidgeon, please?” she requested of the driver. Through the buildings to the street on the other side, the taped-up building of the  Antiquities & Pawn Shop of Tad Wooler sat with a cruiser bearing the sensible brown and unmistakable insignia of the sheriff’s office. “Oh, that’s Deputy Catmull!” Judy identified, watching as a cougar in the broad-brimmed hat and jacket of his profession walked out to his vehicle with a stack of boxes that, from the distance, definitely looked like they were labeled as “evidence”, “His younger brother Bobby and I went to school together at Woodlands.”

“Guess he ‘drew the short straw’,” Bo reasoned.

“Doubtful,” Nick replied.

“Considering what that ‘evidence’ likely  _ is _ , it might call his objectivity into question,” Judy deduced, “Good chance he’s only  _ retrieving _ it so that someone like Officer Legrande can look through it, instead.”

“Legrande, Legrande…” the glowing blue fox pondered, “Why, that’s the giraffe with the stuck-up attitude, isn’t it? Of course,  _ he _ wouldn’t be the one to retrieve the evidence, not if he can’t fit inside the shop, and there are no giraffe-sized vehicles in sight, either; those things are kind of hard to miss. The ‘evidence’ must have something to do with Deputy Catmull, but that was a lot of stuff to bring out, wasn’t it? And he’s going back in to get more, so it can’t just be him… maybe it’s to do with cougars or just predators in general.”

_ Hey, how about you stop talking for a bit, okay? Or better yet, go away entirely, _ the lion rebuked, forcing himself to look out the driver-side window while his truck idled.

“No can do, champ, I am a  _ burning _ question snuggled into your brain-meats, and like it or not, I’m not going anywhere until I’ve run my course. But hey! At least we’re talking now, right? I’d call that  _ pro~gress _ !” the hallucination announced in a festive, singsong tone.

The lion twisted where he sat to glare into the back seat and its abundant vacancy. “No one behind us,” he confirmed aloud and turned forward again to release his foot from the brake pedal and shift gears, “To Gid’s bakery?”

“To Gid’s bakery, yes,” Nick placidly agreed, exchanging concern with Judy as she slipped back under the seat belt alongside Bo.

“We’re not far from it,” the gray bunny reported.

“Are you feeling alright, Lanny?” the brown bunny asked, “You keep growling under your breath… was it something I, or we, said…?”

Quiet followed for a bit. “I’m fine.”

“You are  _ not _ fine, your tail is twitchy,” Bo pointed out, and it indeed  _ was _ , so the lion pinned it to the seat with a clap of his paw, “I’m sure Judy and Nick are being considerate of your feelings, but when  _ I _ can tell that there’s something bugging you, then it’s  _ got _ to be bad. C’mon, buddy, we’re here for you.”

“Oh dear… legit concern for your emotional state… that’ll be a tricky one to shrug off…” the blue fox said with some mixture of sincerity and snark.

The stony lion kneaded and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel before he answered, or at least, responded, “I  _ know _ , it’s just…” By that time, he’d pulled into the empty lot behind Gideon’s bakery and turned off his truck, the lazy growl which heralded its resting state also muted Lanny’s own esophageal worrying.

“Hey, Judy, Bo,” Nick spoke up as Lanny remained reluctant, “Give us a minute?” He insisted as politely as he could to the questioning purple and suspicious hazel eyes, an endeavor aided by a less veiled expression that he projected towards the empathic Judy, “ _ Please? _ ” After a round of unbuckled seat belts, he opened the passenger-side door so that the bunnies could both shuffle out, sporting their own variation of uncertainty, and then he closed the door again to walk across the seat and sit nearer the lion.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Lanny languidly repeated, arms crossed over the top of the steering wheel.

“Except for that glowing blue fox you told me about,” Nick responded. Neither he nor Lanny looked at each other, but were instead thinking aloud and uncaring if they were overheard.

“I have him…  _ it _ under control.”

Green eyes watched the clouds drifting by outside for a moment. “I reckon you spent a lot of time fending for yourself, so the trust you have in your own sanity is something you especially value. A fine sentiment, until you encounter something that goes against it,” Nick eventually said, finally addressing the larger predator.

“Clever fox; you are an open book to him, aren’t you?” came the imaginary voice yet again, except it wasn’t sitting in the back seat, oh no, it was in the  _ front  _ seat and on the other side of an unsuspecting Nick. He wasn’t any smaller, and was still done up -- or rather, not done up  _ at all _ \-- like those naturalists from the Mystic Springs Oasis; interestingly, he had something dangling down the front of his chest which Lanny figured was something of a beard (he’d seen them on lions, goats, and other such mammals with fluffier fur beneath the chin) and numerous… swirls or markings all over his body which Lanny couldn’t make heads-or-tails of, but guessed were tattoos of some kind.

“He said something just now, didn’t he?” Nick immediately reacted to another clenching of Lanny’s jaw.

“…No.”

“You’re lying. What did he say?”

“He… it!  _ It _ didn’t say anything, Nick,” the lion denied, only then addressing the smaller, redder, realer fox.

“Another lie,” Nick said matter-of-factly, and stood up in the seat to look Lanny in the eye; as best he could, anyway, “So you know, I’m-”

“A walking lie detector,” the  _ faux _ fox promptly inserted.

“Probably a walking lie detector, right?” the lion shot back, “Alright,  _ fine _ , yes, a giant, glowing blue fox  _ is  _ telling me things, things I would’ve never realized before, and quite frankly…” he began in anger, but collided his forehead upon the folded paws, “I’m  _ scared _ . It… he showed up yesterday, and he wasn’t any bigger than you are now, but I nearly hit a tree after jumping out of my fur when he popped in from thin air. And now he’s bigger than I am, so I  _ guess _ that means the Night Howler is getting worse, but I’m not exhibiting any withdrawal symptoms which, I’d like to point out, I am  _ very _ familiar with; I’ve seen it in others plenty of times during my night shifts at Lions Gate General,” he sighed and rubbed his forehead against his wrists, “The  _ real _ issue was we talked for a bit before I even  _ considered _ that he wasn’t actually there, like…”

“Like he was  _ always _ there?”

“Yes!” Lanny admitted, sitting upright again, paws spread in bewildered revelation, “He was insightful and witty, but yet I can’t remember  _ who _ he is or  _ where _ I saw him. For crying out loud, Nick, he has a  _ smell! _ ”

“Hey, come on, I’m sitting  _ right here _ ,” the hallucination said.

Nick’s eyebrows about shot off his face. “Okay, that’s a new one for me, because Dawson’s only been an audio/visual nuisance by my experience.”

“The truly confusing part is the smell reminds me of…” he began, but clasped his paws together and ground the bridge of his nose into his joined thumbs, “This isn’t going to make  _ any _ sense, but his smell reminds me of my uncle…”

“Who is a lion,” Nick dully recalled.

“A fox that smells like a lion, yes,” Lanny grumbled, “It’s my green-eyed uncle, I’m sure of it, the same lion who…” he grumbled again and lurched with disbelief, “Who rescued me from a car accident that never happened?” He slung his arm back over the truck’s seat and stared out the window, grinding his fist into the arch of the steering wheel, “I still remember the fire and smoke, Nick, so my green-eyed uncle saved me from something, but why does some ghost fox smell like him?”

Nick’s paws wheeled some as he seemed in search of an answer. “Maybe… it’s some kind of memory association. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a head doctor or a biologist, I only know mammals that  _ are _ , but one thing I  _ do _ know about this new Night Howler drug is that it does wonky things to your brain. So, maybe it represents something  _ else _ , like…” he began, but then promptly stopped talking. When Lanny looked at him, the red fox reached up to adjust his tie but cleared and rubbed his throat, instead.

“He’s got that look  _ again~ _ ” the glowing fox said with a high lilt, “Like he’s keeping a  _ secret~ _ ”

“Like?” Lanny pressed.

“ _ Like _ ,” Nick continued, ears splayed back and sparing glances at the lion, “your conscience, except you can actually hear, see and -- in  _ your _ case --  _ smell _ it.”

“Who’s a ‘liar’  _ now _ , hmm?” Lanny’s ‘Dawson’ poised, grinning though he was.

Lanny’s face hardened. “Were you going to say something  _ else _ , Nick?”

Nick rubbed his chin and hooded his eyes, and then smiled with a limp flicking of his pointed finger. “You know, I  _ should _ be scared when a lion looks at me like that, but…” he mused, and with a quick step back along the front seat and a half-pivot of his hips, his tail swept behind him in a wide arc as he then stood in the passenger’s spot, and leaned back on the door when the leonine nurse opened his eyes again after a hard blink. “That glowing blue fox was sitting right behind me, wasn’t he? That’s why you kept glancing over my shoulder and stopped clenching your jaw. You were  _ listening _ to him.”

“Ooh, he is  _ good _ ,” the imaginary voice whispered, but had since retreated whence it came: to the back of Lanny’s mind.

The lion stared crestfallen and yet oddly hopeful. “Can you… make him go away, or teach me how to make him shut up…?” Lanny quietly asked, “I’ve already swatted at him but it doesn’t help much.”

Nick shrugged his narrow shoulders with a narrow smile, “I cannot ‘make’ anyone do anything, only convince them that it’s in their best interest to help me; in this case, I can see how you can help me to help  _ you _ figure out what this glowing blue fox wants you to figure out. Luckily enough, what  _ you _ have is a certain slyness that you’ve picked up as a cub by dodging the Lookers, which will make this whole process loads easier. I’d bet you keep a low profile at the docks where you work, right? Head down, chin up, ears forward-” he went on.

“Actually, I’m the alpha for the pride I’m in, even though I’m only there part-time.”

The fox seemed stunned a moment, and put a paw on his hip, “You  _ are _ , are you. So, you’re… bigger and louder than the other lions there.”

Lanny laughed and rubbed the back of his head, “No, no… Well, not  _ louder _ , I just challenged the previous alpha and won, even though he was bigger than me at the time. He’s my ‘beta’ now, and deals directly with the foremammal, union rep, a number of the other alphas… he found that it was easier to get things done with  _ my  _ authority than his.”

As he grinned and sauntered back across the front seat, Nick propped an elbow atop the tawny shoulder in masterful casualness, “There’s something to be said for being a ‘behind the scenes’ leader,” he wondered aloud, “So, you won an alpha challenge against a larger, older lion. Do go on.”

After a quick blink, Lanny softly grinned and glanced up with a scratch at his cheek, “Well… I used to work at the docks as a teenager. Pridelands is really good about giving us cubs after-school jobs, because that’s how Memphis King started; he built the company up from nothing, you know, and the docks were very  _ laissez-faire _ , almost anarchic before he came along, ran mostly by the mafia,” he explained to a patient nodding from Nick, “Anyway, this older lion, Terry McManee, took me under his wing because unlike the others, I was an orphan; I didn’t even have a foster family, and he became my ‘uncle’, of sorts. He’s got  _ blue _ eyes, by the way, and likes to braid his mane down the center,” Lanny quickly specified, and drew a line from his chin to sternum, “He encouraged me to go to college, and so I followed his brother, Keith, who was the then breath-of-life nurse for Lions Gate General.

“When I got my nursing degree I didn’t want to just  _ leave _ the docks, I practically grew up there, but I couldn’t just  _ come back _ either, so… I challenged my uncle for the position of alpha. And like I said, he was bigger than me at the time, but I knew he also loved me and still saw me as a cub. To prep for the challenge, I wore two shirts, both really old and a size too small. By the way, what do you know about alpha challenges, Nick?” he asked.

“Feats of strength, speed, or stamina, staring contests, the sort of stuff you see at the ‘Mr. Zootopia’ competitions,” Nick detailed offhandedly, and then coyly considered under his breath, “Huh… maybe alphas  _ can _ be sly… how absolutely  _ novel _ .”

Lanny chuckled. “That’s pretty much what I challenged him to, a good, ol’ fashioned stare down. He took off his shirt and flexed and growled, you know, normal posturing stuff. When it was  _ my  _ turn, I purposefully left both shirts on, and since they were tight and worn out, I flexed and burst through the outer one for effect, and when everyone watching was still reeling, I then burst through the undershirt and growled louder. I defiantly squared my shoulders, standing there in tatters and  _ him  _ in shock, which about cemented my position as alpha, especially with all the other big cats watching. He still handles all of the  _ actual  _ alpha duties but with  _ my _ authority, and since I’m now  _ bigger _ than he is, it actually works out rather well,” he explained, and then chuckled, trading the fox smirk-for-smirk, “What?”

“I mean this in the best possible way, Freight, but lions are not the subtlest mammals in the world, but what I just heard has to be the  _ slyest _ I’ve ever heard a lion be,” Nick began, “In fact, I would bet my tail -- which is a fancy, fox-way of saying ‘There’s no possible way I can be wrong on this’ -- that you  _ knew _ a fox sometime in your cubhood,  _ before _ you lost your memory. There’s a good chance the blue glow connects  _ directly _ to them, in some way, maybe a blue light, or a blue sweater.”

“My…” the lion began.

“Say it…” the glowing blue fox anticipated.

“My  _ ‘Dawson’ _ , for lack of a better word,” he begrudged, to which the imaginary voice quietly cheered, “is based off someone from my past, like… a friend?”

“It might not even be a boy, could be a girl,” Nick suggested, “And he  _ or she _ might be part of a memory when you realized something about yourself, something that you came to terms with, that is part of the  _ core _ of who you are,” he began with dramatic flair, and then continued casually, “I’m guessing it was happy, though, otherwise this whole Dawson thing would be a  _ much _ harder experience.”

“Well, let’s see now… I haven’t known a lot of foxes, so when would I have…?” Lanny began, brow furrowing some as he thought back, lightly clapping his denim thighs.

“ _ Found _ something!” echoed the voice in the back of his mind.

Lanny’s eyes widened and pupils narrowed as he gasped high, and then clapped his face with both paws, even bringing his legs up as far as he could while in the cramped space behind the steering wheel…

* * *

Nick reeled, ears pinned and frown falling off his jaw as it tried to get as far away from his eyebrows as possible. “Lanny…?” he attempted, reaching for the shoulder of the sudden ball of quaking tawny muscle crammed into the driver’s seat.  _ No, no no no! _ his mind raced, grabbing at his skull, eyes scanning and head whipping to look for any kind of water-filled container,  _ A water bottle, a bucket… a fire extinguisher, anything! _

_ This wasn’t supposed to happen; he wasn’t supposed to go back to pred-therapy! _ Nick about panicked,  _ ‘Happy thoughts’, ‘girl fox’, ‘before you lost your memory’, what part of this brought you back there? _ he worried still,  _ You were filled with confidence talking about being an alpha, hope and love talking about your uncle, pride from graduating as a nurse; you’re not supposed to spiral into insanity from that! _

_ Healing hugs! _ the fox suddenly thought up in his desperation, and threw himself around…  _ onto _ the lion’s shoulder, reaching as far about his neck as he could, soothingly stroking the back of his cropped mane.  _ The last thing I need to deal with is an emotional basket case of a lion locked inside a truck, and even before I got to eat any of Gideon’s cinnamon rolls… _ “Okay, it’s okay, Lanny,” Nick said in his most comforting, fatherly tone, “I’m right here, everything’s fine, just tell me what it is, okay?”

As Nick’s cheek pressed to Lanny’s, he paused and looked at the brilliantly red ears of the lion,  _ Wait a minute… _ “Hey, uh… Freight… are you  _ blushing _ ?”

Crimson eyes peeked around tawny digits, and it was clear that the lion’s fur could not hide the hot rush of blood inside his face, which soon matched the surrounding mane in color. “I…” he whispered, paws gradually lowering until his padded fingertips brushed at his dark lips, “I think… I just…” he stammered, “I think I just remembered my first kiss…”

Nick slumped atop the lion’s frame a bit, arms dangling as he sighed,  _ I am both relieved and annoyed by this situation _ , he lamented, and clapped the broad back, “That’s great to hear, buddy, I’m happy for you.” Ears from either predator flicked towards the passenger-side door as it flung open, and through it, a bolt of gray streaked to land atop Lanny’s knee.

It was Judy, starry-eyed and gushing adorable adoration. “Tell, tell!” the girl bunny beseeched of the utterly thunderstruck lion, her voice high but sweet as she held his mitt-of-a-paw. Suffice to say, any negativity that dared linger was thusly dispersed by the meteoric, emotional beacon that was Judy Hopps.

“We were  _ not _ eavesdropping,” Bo declared while climbing through the open door.

“Mainly Jude was, on account of her worryin’,” Gideon explained, also standing right outside, who then smiled as he held up a box with his bakery’s logo on it, “I got the cinnamon rolls y’all asked for.”

The camera on Travis’s phone shuttered before he admired the picture he took of the three inside the truck, thumbs then tapping at the screen, “That’s going up on  Fuzzbook . By the way, hi Nick.”

“Bo, Gid,  _ Travis _ ,” Nick listed off, as he walked across the front seat and stooped down to retrieve the box and a pawful of napkins… but then reached out to close the door.

Except Bo was already in the truck and extending his arm to keep the door open, effortlessly. “They requested a ride to the TBR, and I’m going to ask Lanny as soon as he’s available,” the boy bunny said… smugly so.

“By the way, this is my bestest friend from when I was a kit: Travis Blackfoot,” Gideon introduced.

“And newly brought back together as adults,” the ferret added, leaning over to wave at the lion, who smiled and waved back, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, uh, hiya. And yeah, they can come, that’s not a problem,” the lion said, perhaps a bit shyly, daintily picking Judy up by her waist to set her on the adjacent seat. She still bounced on the balls of her feet as she looked at him.

Nick grimaced, eyes hooded and eyebrows arching, but then he grinned all the same as he set the cinnamon rolls on the dashboard before lowering the back of the seat, thus providing access to his fellow small predators, “Well, if word-on-high deems it so, then who am I but a humble fox,  _ yada yada _ , get in here already.”

“So… Judy and/or Nick and/or Lanny… what  _ was _ it that lit a fire under your cottontail?” Travis asked, standing in the backseat and leaning forward on the front.

Judy beamed hopefully at Lanny. Lanny blushed still, but it was only visible in his ears. “Well…” he softly smiled and touched the tips of his index fingers together as Nick closed the door. Quite clearly nervous but also glancing between the green-eyed fox and the purple-eyed bunny to find support, he took a deep breath. “I… have retrograde amnesia… everything before puberty is a blur, at best,” he admitted, and from the looks of it, felt a bit lighter as he gazed about at the anticipatory faces, “But… I just remembered something from when I can’t have been much older than six, maybe seven… and that was my first kiss.”

The cab of the truck broke out in supportive adulations and praise, either from those, like Nick and Judy, who were aware that a mysterious trauma blacked out his past, or Gideon and Bo, who considered him a good friend, or Travis, who knew how to read a room and act accordingly; but all, it seemed, were genuinely happy for him.

“Okay, so,  _ details _ ,” Judy requested, and was once more holding the lion’s paws, or rather, his  _ thumbs _ .

“Let’s not overwhelm him, Juju,” Bo cautioned.

“It’s alright, I want to get this memory out in the open,” Lanny then said, “I don’t remember her face, because I think my eyes were closed, but I remember her  _ smell _ , and her  _ voice _ , and the… the feel of her lips… She was a lioness, like me, and I think she was also my best friend, or one of them because there was another lion cub with me, I remember his scent, too… I think he dared me to kiss her, and  _ her _ friend dared her to kiss  _ me _ … It’s just a gut feeling I have because I felt  _ urged _ to do it but also really hesitant,” the lion said quietly, and then glanced up at Nick, “and I think… I  _ think _ her friend was actually a fox.”

Gideon  _ ‘whoop’ _ -ed knowingly and exchanged a smirk with his cousin and then with his kithood friend, the three smaller predators all sharing in some cabal-esque secret, “Dared by a  _ fox _ .”

Travis grunted and rubbed his chin in amusement, “Us shiftier folk do not lightly dare, no sir, and foxes doubly so. What a precarious situation you must have been in, Lanny,” he casually mentioned, “Still, that’s one sly little vixen, palling around with and daring lions.”

“Yes,” Nick mused, tail swishing behind him as he reached up for the cinnamon rolls and napkins to allocate them, using the baked treats as a distraction so that he could directly address Lanny,  _ And hopefully, your Dawson is listening in, _ “How  _ unique _ ,” and spared him a single wink of the eye. As he hoped, Lanny’s lips gradually puckered in thought as his eyes brightened… and then he smirked, likewise sparing a single wink.  _ Message received, _ Nick pondered,  _ There aren’t many foxes in cahoots with lions, even if from several years ago, so that should narrow down the search for his past. _

“Alright,” Judy determined, plopping herself down as Bo buckled them both in, “We’ve still got plenty of afternoon left to enjoy the TBR.”

Nick leaned up and hooked his arm around the back of the seat with a grin, “Do either of you have any plans for later on this evening?”

Gideon grinned and shook his head, “No sirree! I’m with you, Stretch, looking forward to checking out all those int’resting food stands, maybe get a few ideas for my pastries.”

Travis sighed and shrugged, “I need to be back by sundown, or thereabouts. Exotic fish-sitting, and all; such a pain…”

“Well, don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Trav, we’ll get you back to those lovely fishies in due time,” Nick said.

“On the way to the TBR, would you be open to…  _ filling me in _ on some around-town rumors?” the ferret requested with more than a subtle lilt to his voice.

Nick first glanced at Gideon and got an apologetic but amiable shrug. He then looked to both Bo and Lanny, the former more understanding of the situation than the latter, it seemed and pursed his lips a bit. And then to Judy… who softly smiled with a nod of her head towards Travis (even if he likely couldn’t see her due to the seat). “Well, we’re dealing with some  _ highly _ sensitive information, so I cannot, as of yet, confirm or deny  _ anything _ , you understand,” he responded with a smirk.

Travis smirked in kind, “Oh, I’m not looking for  _ specifics _ ; just… if there’s anything I should keep an eye out for.”

“Just the basics, then, at least what we know what Sheriff Longmare wouldn’t mind an upstanding citizen, such as you, being made aware of,” the taller fox decided and flicked his pointing finger onward to signal for the lion to drive before he began.  _ Actually, you hanging around is something of a blessing in disguise, Travis, since it’ll keep us vigilant and prevent any tongue-slips about this whole Night Howler travesty _ , the taller fox pondered, smiling to his conspirators in turn before sitting back down and buckling in,  _ Still, I’m kinda bummed Esther couldn’t be here to join this merry band, she could do with a break as much as the rest of us… I figured we would have heard back from her business with the Felix by now… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Terry McManee" is based on my dear friend and fellow writer, NieveLion ([To Mend a Broken Hart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18357548/chapters/43465277)), as not only gratitude for his unrelenting support these past few years in writing Neverwere Moments but also as a convenient paternal lion figure for Lanny's backstory. The moniker "Uncle Terry" was originally meant to act as a bridge between him and Judy; she mentions her peripheral Uncle Terry (from the movie, who I've made into a more... prominent figure in her development) and he wonders that she also has an Uncle Terry, to which she reveals that she has aunts and uncles all along he alphabet. It was more of a gag on the prolific size of bunny families and way to introduce this aspect of Lanny but it didn't quite flow with the story, even though I still like the name. He and his brother, Keith, are a pair of bachelor or rogue lions, unmated and actually more common in Zootopia than some might have you believe.
> 
> Lanny's 'Dawson' (for lack of a better term) is based on Zuzo from "Elena of Avalor" (VA, Keith Ferguson); the fact that his voice actor bears the same name as Lanny's other uncle is strictly coincidence.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep ears and nose trained on those who've dared  
> To stay their feuds: fox and bunny paired  
> For theirs is a bond that broke down walls  
> Heralding in when everything falls...

“Esther Lee Grey and Oscar Finnick Faire?”

“Yep,” Finnick barked.

_ Close enough _ , Esther thought, “Present.”

“Super,” the monitor reported in electronic cordiality, either of their faces popping up onto the screen as the overhead camera whirred, “Mr. Never will see you now.”

Either fox looked over their shoulders at the mountainous figure of Boris Koslov, the right-paw polar bear of Mr. Big, whom Finnick traveled with to arrive at a  _ very _ private, secretive business in Subterraria; next to him stood the diminutive form of Nivins McTwisp, the right-paw rabbit of Felix Oswald Lapis, who escorted Esther and the doubly locked suitcase cuffed to her wrist. They perhaps could not be more different, if only for the  _ blatant _ discrepancy in their sizes and demeanors; Koslov was an iceberg and McTwisp a leaf. However, any tangible distinction in their traits was over _ whelming _ ly overshadowed by their tandem professionalism.

“Let the record show that I did  _ not _ approve of this course of action,” the albino rabbit declared, once again needlessly adjusting some minuscule part of his high-end suit, “The Felix  _ will _ hear about this affront to our agreement!”

“Settle, McTwisp,” Koslov reminded, his voice similar in many respects to an avalanche, “Let foxes handle fox things… for now.” He then lumbered over to an enormous chair in the seedy lobby which they stood; if dimly lit in most places and sparsely decorated, save for tattered ornate trimmings and a double elevator door at the end of the room. The polar bear pulled out his phone to address it.

Nivins bristled, but referenced a pocket watch on a chain with a  _ click _ of its gilded cover, “I shall ‘settle’ for no longer than forty-eight minutes and twenty-six seconds; the top of the hour and when I am scheduled to report back. If this egregious oversight is not corrected  _ before _ then, you can tell this ‘Mr. Never’ that he will  _ never _ do business with the Felix again!” With that, he stormed over to a significantly smaller chair on the facing wall.

“Never say ‘never’~” the monitor saccharinely chimed as the sliding doors at the end of the lobby opened onto an equally utilitarian freight elevator, the advanced technology of its identifier notwithstanding.

“If this ‘broker’ is as keen as the Felix heard he is,” Esther remarked as she entered alongside a quietly pensive Finnick, “then this won’t take very long  _ at all _ .” The door then slid shut behind them and the elevator jostled into a descent of its occupants, she with both paws casually holding the briefcase in front of her, and him tapping away at his phone.  _ Alright then, _ the vixen observed,  _ his ears are twitching and scanning, just like how Judy’s does when she suspects her siblings are listening in. _

“Esther,” the fennec finally said as they delved deeper and deeper through the elevator shaft, caramel eyes glancing up from his screen, “That thing I showed you…?”

The vixen stiffened.  _ It’s all I can do to not think about it, but yes, it sounds like Magnus must have convinced that rabbit to jump out the window on the pretense that it was just for show, and deliberately omitted a net or an inflatable stunt jump; that’s zooicide, plain and simple. _ Esther coyly smiled, “It was  _ quite _ the thing to drop on me, Mr. Faire, but I wholly agree with you,” she cooed with a flick of her tail.

He leered back. “Glad to hear we’re on the same page but, you know, keep it to yourself,” the long-eared fox replied with a wink.

_ Of course, this elevator is bugged, everything about this ‘Mr. Never’ reeks to high heaven, _ Esther reviled behind her grin,  _ Thanks for checking, Finnick _ .  _ Paranoia really does keep you alive, doesn’t it? _

“Not to go off on a tangent,” he continued, and as best she could figure, was a bit more sincere in his coyness, “but Nick bragged to me about you, and I still have the texts from this morning.”

The vixen stiffened again, but she kept cool despite her warm ears, “Oh, nothing amiss there… after all, I bragged to Judy about  _ him _ ,” Esther conversed,  _ But why bring it up?  _ she wondered, and glanced down at the slight waggling of his phone with arched eyebrows,  _ Oh… you want to know if his phone is working, I suppose… he did mutter something under his breath about a ‘missed text’, _ “That must have been what he was doing on his phone when he thought I still slept… sneaky tod.”

The mood broke as Gazelle’s “Try Everything” filled the elevator. Esther answered her associate’s flat gaze with a set of unabashed, hooded eyelids, and then checked the phone ringing in the back pocket of her dress slacks (which she’d changed into when she found out where she was headed; a momentary stop that the Felix was willing to abide).  _ Oh, I wasn’t expecting such excellent reception down here, or this phone call,  _ “I should take this, it looks important,” the vixen said to the tod, who shrugged and busied himself electronically, “Hi Ma, are you and Pa enjoying the cruise? I thought you turned your phones off until the end, otherwise, Pa would keep checking to see if any of his clients- … Oh, is it?”

Finnick’s ears swiveled to keenly catch what Ma Grey said on the other side. Esther’s eyes flicked to their sudden movement and, in turn, caught his disbelief.

“That’s what the captain said,” Ruth reported, mother of Esther and Gideon, “The itinerary changed, so we’re headed back tonight. It’s bittersweet because that’s when the luau was planned. Lots of us from the Corner are up-at-arms about it, but we’ll survive somehow.”

“I didn’t think you were the luau type.”

“Oh, I’m not, but I would’ve liked attending all the same; plus, how wonderful it would be to spend another day on the sea, just like your Grandpub. No, what I’m grateful for is that I won’t have to wear this  _ skimpy _ little swimsuit Pa got me from the gift shop onboard… I thought they were undergarments, at first, but he expected me to parade about  _ on deck _ with nothing else on! I  _ have _ a swimsuit which covers me from neck to knees, and that’s fine for me.”

Esther muted the phone to her shoulder and leaned over to a contemplative Finnick, “She’s such a prude and I love her for it,” to which he nodded in response as she returned to the call, “I’m more surprised Pa made an impulse purchase. He’ll be crushed that you won’t wear it, you know.”

“I’ll wear it, sweetie, just not…  _ outside _ .”

“Of course,” Esther sighed, and rolled her eyes in good humor.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young vixen,” Ruth warned.

“So, uh!” the younger vixen continued, “Have you told Giddy yet?”

“No no, we don’t want to bother him when he’s got important TBR business.”

“And what about  _ my _ important business?”

“ _ Are _ you busy right now?” her mother asked.

Esther glanced at Finnick and his shaking, frowning head. “No… nothing I can’t take a minute or two away from, of course,” she answered.

“Then we’ll trust you to let your brother know, when he’s available. The contest was yesterday, but we know how the rabbits and horses run those events and it won’t be a simple one-day thing,” Ruth said, “We also heard from some of the other families on board that their friends spotted  _ you  _ around the TBR, so be sure to water my ferns when you get the chance.”

“Already did, Ma, they’re happy and green.”

“Oh, you’re the best, Essy, thank you,” Ruth doted, “We’ll be packing up after another dip in the pool. It’s not every day you get to swim in a ship out on the ocean!”

“Alright, you two have fun while you can,” Esther chuckled, and kissed at the air, “Love you lots,” and then hung up. “That was fun and interesting…” she coolly said, tucking her phone away.

Finnick grunted.

Esther inquired with a glance.

“There’s a bunch of traffic going from Knotash to Bunnyburrow,” he calmly reported, looking again at his touch-screen.

“The Knotash bunnies are leaving, I guess… I didn’t think it would be a problem, them staying there, because it’s not like they’re living in the  _ houses _ .”

“Hey Esther, can we be frank for a minute?” he asked after tapping on his phone and gazing up at her, ears swiveling, “There’s something else going on here, something that I don’t like the smell of. City-bunnies  _ don’t _ go off their schedules -- I’m pretty sure it’s heresy for them -- but  _ they’re _ leaving and the cruise is coming back, both a day early,” Finnick explained, “Now, I’ve had this itch in the back of my skull ever since Nick went to Bunnyburrow, and it’s gotten worse every day since…”

“What are you getting at?”

The smaller fox sighed. “Nick’s as sly a fox as they come, and I thought  _ I _ could hear trouble coming a mile off, but he… he sees it, smells it, attracts it, and used to avoid it like the plague but now he just  _ dives in _ …” the fennec grumbled, “He’s as bad as the new Mr. Foxglove…  _ almost _ ,” he then tacked on, “Anyway, I guess what I’m getting at is… is  _ Judy  _ like that?”

The vixen blinked.

“You know her better than I do, and every bunny I’ve ever known kept to their warrens, got along to get along,” Finnick said as he reminisced, “One day, Nick and I are hustling our normal business, right, and then she pops up out of nowhere… and then she pops up again!” he says, but clearly not out of anger, “Judy’s in the city  _ three days _ and solves one of the worst rashes of missing mammal cases in  _ decades _ … A friend of mine went missing, and I was worried I’d never see him again but  _ never _ thought I see him like  _ that _ …”

Esther could not help but chuckle and perhaps did so to lighten the mood. “Judy Hopps… is a one-in-a- _ trillion _ rabbit,” she said, idly swaying where she stood and gazing about, “She put me on the path of law, you know, ‘Help me make the world a better place’, she said… and she was half my age at the time, too. She is a  _ rascally _ troublemaker, but… in the same way that water washes the dirt off a rock, I guess, and brings out the best in others; even if they never thought it was in them, to begin with.”

Finnick looked down at his phone again, and from what Esther could see, watched as a timer curiously ticked down. “Judy brought back another friend of mine, too,” he solemnly said, “someone I thought lost as a kit… Nick tackled and escaped trouble for sport, could make friends without trying… It all ended one night when he saw what happened when he trusted too much… and then his confidence shattered after his closest friends started falling away as an adult, one-by-one until it was only me and him. I never thought I’d see  _ that _ ‘Nick Wilde’ again, but then along comes Judy and there he is, even with all the snark and cynicism he built up over the years, the same kit that…” he then chuckled bemusedly, “wanted to ‘make the world a better place’.”

Blue eyes softened over a smile as she leaned down. “Don’t worry, Finnick, your fears for their heroic romanticism compounding on each other is  _ well _ -founded,” she said.

“That’s why I worry,” he smirked.

“By the way, what’s this countdown?” she then asked.

“I jammed Mr. Never’s bugs,” the fennec offhandedly mentioned.

“You can actually do that?”

“Mack taught me how,” Finnick said, and to her cold silence, looked directly into her eyes to continue, “He’s sorry, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Esther stoically replied, standing upright again as she looked away, and then to the fennec again, “He’s talked about me?”

“He wouldn’t shut up about you after the Lionheart trial,” he said with another smirk.

“Really?” the vixen wondered aloud, “I wasn’t more than a footnote in most of the papers…”

Finnick shrugged. “Best I can figure, you’re the one mammal he might have real regrets about… at least, whatever amounts to ‘regret’ with him,” he admitted, and as the countdown ran its final seconds, wagged his phone for quiet to resume their nonchalance.

At last, the elevator arrived some several floors beneath the city and into the border marches of Underland, the gate sliding open automatically as the voice once more chimed, if significantly less electronically, “Go on in, Ms. Grey. Mr. Faire, please have a seat.” It was a seedy lobby they left and a seedy waiting room they then entered after a stretch of hallway. Sitting at a desk surrounded by plastic plants, filing cabinets, a CRT monitor, and too many mugs filled with too many pens of too many colors, was the secretary from which the voice originated. “Mrs. Deborah Foss”, as her nameplate read, was a middle-aged mole with only the barest gray tinting in her fur, a chartreuse dress and cardigan, pearls, a hearing aid, and a pair of bottle-frame glasses reflecting the glow of her monitor. The long, magenta-painted claws of her fingers returned to tapping on her keyboard with deafening strikes as the foxes entered.

Esther looked about at the false light cutting in through the blinds of a window-to-nowhere, the lethargic ceiling fan, and the general sense of dinginess that came from wallpaper and furniture a decade or two out of style. “This isn’t what I expected,” she admitted to Finnick from out of the corner of her mouth.

“I try not to expect anything except disappointment,” the sandy fox remarked, “the irony of its satisfaction is usually enough to get me through the day.” He paused and sniffed at the office area, grimaced with a rub of his nose, and then strode over to a chair to hop up and once more address his phone.

“Cute,” the vixen replied, and sauntered up to the door with a sway of her tail, it buzzing upon her approach so to let herself in.

The smell of cigar smoke which permeated through the waiting room could not compare to the freshly lit log of tobacco jutting from Mr. Never’s jaws, the glow of its embers accenting the red of his fur. Papers were scattered around the notably spacious office, even if its majority remained filed or stuffed inside drawers. There were no plants, real or otherwise, but a mostly-eaten chicken dinner sat on his desk, and the single “window” served mainly as a ventilator, its artificial light turned very dim from behind the closed blinds. The only other light source was his half-open laptop illuminating the other side of his face with a pale aura. Esther closed the door behind her.

“Ms.  _ Grey _ ,” Mr. Never leered, an older fox whose lightly-striped white shirt remained unbuttoned to expose both an undershirt and a paunch from an appreciation for harder spirits. He tapped the cigar he pulled from his mouth over a filling ashtray before standing up and walking around the desk to then lean on it.

_ Oh good, he’s at least wearing pants; don’t I feel special _ , Esther noticed, forcing as professional and polite a smile as she could manage in the circumstances, “And  _ you _ must be ‘Mr. Never’,” the vixen replied.

“And  _ that _ must be the piece of history thought long since lost,” the tod determined, his leer widening as he pointed with his cigar-laden fingers.

“As Felix Lapis tells it, you’re the only one in the city who would  _ truly _ understand the full weight of this artifact,” she explained.

“Only the  _ best _ ,” he boasted with an easy shrug, and leaned more against his desk, almost lounging on it, “I don’t bog myself down with the fairy tales that you get in your everyday history textbook or Woolipedia for that matter. I have the hard documents of a past those on the top don’t want brought to light.”

_ Or what those on the bottom could sell for a pretty penny, _ she thought, and then lightly coughed as she addressed his wanton gaze of the briefcase, “Perhaps you have somewhere brighter, more sanitized to lend your expertise?” Esther asked, noticing a door just the other side of a bookshelf in the corner, which itself looked quite secure.

His dark eyes shifted up and quirked at her, taking a long drag of his cigar to shoot a jet of acrid smoke up into a corner of the stained ceiling. “Somewhere a bit more…  _ private _ , you mean,” Mr. Never inferred.

_ Yuck… _ “Somewhere well-lit and clean,” Esther corrected, nose involuntarily scrunching as he stood upright and dared a step closer, a touch of ash flicked from the tip to land on the floor nearby, “Let’s keep this strictly professional.”

He studied her a moment longer, grin undeterred as his tail swept behind him, “Now who’s the ‘prude’,” he jabbed, and she stiffened. “Y’know, Esther,” Mr. Never continued, “I make it my business to know things I shouldn’t, have ears where they’re not wanted. Your little buddy out there probably knew that and jammed my mics in the elevator;  _ very _ clever of him. On the flip side, if he’s trying to hack into anything of  _ mine _ , he’ll find his  _ widdle _ smartphone and all the emails of his  _ widdle _ friends infected with a virus that would make the plague look like a case of the sniffles. Here’s the thing, ‘Essy’…” leered the older fox, walking right up next to her statuesque posture to sling an arm around and grab her squared shoulders, “I’m not an idiot, quite the opposite, in fact, I am the  _ alpha-fox _ , and if I see something I want, then you can bet your sweet tail that it’s  _ mine _ , one way or another.”

_ Wow… _ “Funny you should mention that Mr. Never,” Esther coolly responded, watching as the cigar returned to its perch between his fangs so that a ribbon of smoke wafted up from it, “because according to my Pa, any fox who has to say that they’re ‘the alpha-fox’…  _ isn’t _ ,” and made to shrug his paw off. When said paw affirmed its grip, the reason  _ why _ the vixen switched from a business skirt to dress slacks actualized with severity as her foot rocketed from the floor and collided with his chin, clamping his jaw shut to send the offensive log of tobacco spiraling through the air.

The old tod dropped to the floor after spun for a considerable loop and his smoking mouthpiece landed with a muffled thud, whereupon Esther’s foot -- with its paw-pad toughened by growing up on the farm and years of kickboxing -- immediately stamped it out. “Quite devious of you to isolate me from my associates as you did, one might dare call it ‘predatory’,” she snarled, eyes blazing silver, “but if I am forced to defend myself again, do bear in mind that it will be with uncompromising  _ legality _ . Now, I believe we still have some business to conduct, unless you want to find out how,  _ exactly _ , a polar bear will fit down your elevator shaft.”

While he was still horizontal but propping himself up, Mr. Never spat out the chomped-off stub and rubbed at his jaw to check for any loose fangs. “Ow…” he grunted and snapped a glare at the vixen towering over him, his expression one of obvious recalculation and reluctant acceptance. Mr. Never shook his head before straightening his shirt and buttoning it up, “Learn to take a compliment,  _ sheesh _ ,” he then muttered under his breath, and continued normally, “Alright,  _ Ms. Grey _ , follow me, but don’t touch anything.”

“Perish the thought,” she replied and kept a safe distance behind him up to that door in the back of his office, the one clearly  _ not _ a closet. The older fox pulled from his pocket a ring of keys, and the one which he brought up looked remarkably mundane, were it not for the severe lack of any notches or grooves along its edge, as far as Esther could tell. The door’s handle was held as the key slipped inside to trigger a complex series of tumblers until one great dislodging of metal allowed the door to open.  _ Okay, I’ll admit, that was pretty cool… I guess he wasn’t kidding about the purported value of what’s in there. Otherwise, why have such an elaborate locking mechanism? _

Within was -- as the vixen requested -- a room comfortably brighter and vastly cleaner than the office which they left, in fact, it looked as professional and well-kept as any bank’s viewing room for the contents of their lockboxes; of which, Mr. Never had in  _ droves _ . They were not all the same size, though, some were longer and others wider, larger or very small, and each with two keyholes. Each section of lockboxes was separated by a single sconce, softly glowing as the primary sources of light, and in the center of it all was a singular, large oak table. Above the boxes were a few, whirring security cameras, and at the far end of the room was another door leading to who-knows-where.

“Down there is the ‘client entrance’, which I usually get spruced up for,” Mr. Never explained with a pointing, pointy finger, “You and that delightful little piece you have are a rare exception. Have a seat,” he then instructed, and pulled out a chair for himself at the table and yanked over an adjustable lamp with a magnifying glass whose lens was surrounded by a circular bulb.

Esther sat herself down and brought the briefcase up onto the sturdy surface, wary of the eager gleam in the older fox’s eyes as she made to open the secured container. “ _ Zorrita _ ,” she enunciated, the ‘r’s of which she rolled for a solid half-beat before the electronic voice lock chimed and popped open. She turned it about and opened the case to reveal a smaller, velvet-lined box with a gilded trim; this, she reverently removed to open onto a bunny-sized, ornate necklace of golden filigree, with seven opals arranged in two rows of four and three that glinted in the light with a prismatic flare.

“Tears for a Sunset…” Mr. Never gawked and marveled, “So it’s  _ true _ … and it’s been in Zootopia all this time…” Perhaps in his first real display of respect, the old fox pulled out a white glove to slip over his paw, drawing the velvet box closer to better examine it beneath the magnifying glass, “Exquisite…” he said, and pushed the lamp away to, instead, wrench a jeweler’s lens into his eye socket (after breathing and wiping it on his shirt) to get a much closer look. He then barked a high, enthusiastic laugh.

“What, what is it?” Esther reflexively asked.

He answered with a wicked leer, “Before I tell you, let’s play a little game,” Mr. Never said, “A word association game.”

She narrowed her eyes but relaxed her jaw. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, you  _ do _ , and it won’t take long, so let’s begin. When I say… ‘King Robin’, you say…?”

Esther sighed. “I would say ‘mythical, red-breasted patron bird of spring’.”

“Very good. And what if I say… ‘fox nobility’?” he continued.

“‘Delusional’ or ‘lying’,” she curtly answered.

Mr. Never leered wider still, “And what about… ‘original gold filigree’?”

The vixen blinked, brow still furrowed as she thought a bit more on that one and glanced down at the carcanet. “It was never repaired, which means it was never broken in the first place.”

He laughed again. “It makes one wonder  _ how _ such a delicate piece of jewelry can go undamaged if its wearer was ‘mauled by a savage fox’ doesn’t it?” the older fox posited, “Another one of those widely-accepted ‘fairy tales’ I mentioned that, were it not for this wonderful little item, even  _ I _ would have believed. You know,” Mr. Never continued, sliding the box off to the side but still well within arm’s reach, his paw resting around it, “It also answers the question of  _ why _ Lapis came to me at all, what with my reputation, and it’s quite clear that  _ he _ knew I was the only one in the city that wouldn’t outright dismiss this… deep, dark fact of history.”

“Indeed,” Esther conceded, “I believe that concludes our business, then. Please return the item, Mr. Never, and I’ll be on my way.” When the older fox simply grinned and caressed the gold trim with his thumb, clearly tightening his grip around the container, the vixen sighed and enunciated, “ _ Bloqueado _ .” The velvet box violently snapped shut and Mr. Never reeled back not only from the lid catching the pad of his thumb, but also the faint electric shock that momentarily seized his paw. Esther lunged forward to grab the newly secured carcanet to further secure it inside the briefcase, which chimed to let her know that it, too, was locked up good and tight. “Have a nice rest of your day.”

The ‘broker’ gripped his wrist and seethed as the vixen stood to leave, suddenly calling out as she gave him a wide berth to exit, “Wait!”

“Sorry, Mr. Never, but time’s up,” she denied in a quick stride towards the office door, “Talk with Mr. McTwisp if you want to schedule another appointment.”

“You know I’m right!” he declared, stumbling out of his chair to stand and brace the table, “You  _ know _ that history’s been rewritten!”

Her paw reached for the door ajar with its elaborate locking mechanism and paused.  _ Even if it has been, I wouldn’t accept any ‘truth’ you claim to have _ , she thought, but said, “A desperate assertion, but call it vixen’s intuition that I’m not wholly trusting of how or why you intend to ‘correct’ it.”

“You don’t need to believe  _ me _ ,” he said with a dark chuckle, sprinting to a particularly tall and narrow lockbox, two choice keys popping it open as he pulled out a grand, framed picture, “You need only feast your eyes upon  _ this _ .”

_ It’s a trap… _ Esther knew, but her curiosity was not so easily quelled. She spared a minute and looked over her shoulder, and then turned full to see an old -- a  _ very _ old -- portrait. It caught her breath, the colors and the frame, its lifelike depiction… of a tod, a vixen, and their six kits of clearly noble standing, dressed in fine clothes and modest jewelry.  _ He’s handsome, and she’s beautiful… Who are they?  _ Esther gawked, and then collected herself, “I suppose this is where you claim to have found ‘fox nobility’, hidden away from the rest of the world.”

“Clever  _ zorrita _ ,” he mocked, holding out his paw in jealous presentation, “The Loxleys; a forgotten bloodline of noble foxes from back in the reign of King Richard. This is one of a few paintings I found in my days as a treasure hunter, a collection buried deep down in Underland that I, of course, had to kill the rest of my cohorts to keep it a secret; and it’s not even the  _ best _ one of the lot.”

_ “Loxley”… Like that Fuchsia Loxley Nick told me about, but she looked ready to sell her own mother, and yet his eyes are so kind, so sincere… _ Esther thought, looking at the noble tod again, and perhaps even felt herself swooning.  _ Keep it together! _ she then berated herself with a straighter posture, if with her hips cocked to one side and a paw at her waist,  _ You’re still dealing with a conniving twat, and now an admitted murderer _ . “Yes, very beautiful, but if you thought it was real you’d have revealed it  _ years _ ago, or at the very least, verified its authenticity… Unless you already  _ did _ , and either wish to horde such a crucial aspect of history for yourself, or it is, thematically, a  _ forgery _ , Mr. Never,” she insinuated, opening the exit a bit wider,  _ You’ll need more than a… roguishly, handsome face to get my guard down. _

Mr. Never scowled, and carefully replaced the painting before slamming the lockbox door shut. The fur up his spine bristled as his claws raked across the surfaces of the adjacent boxes before coming to a smaller, more horizontal one. “Such a  _ cynic _ , but I’ve dealt with worse than you,” he shot back and opened that lockbox to pull out three items: two smaller boxes, and a remote. These he set upon the oak table and kicked the chair aside so that his guest could see them from where she hovered at the door.

“I am ‘Mr. Never’, which you surely figured out isn’t my  _ real _ name, but do you know why I chose it? I’m sure you remember a line from one of the quainter songs little kits sing:

"‘O Chronicler of moments that never were’.”

Esther’s face set. “Yes, it’s part of a hymn that Aslan sang to teach about one of His many roles in our lives, that there are countless decisions which we make and, by trusting in Him, will be guided to where we need to be, when we need be; that even in the worst times we are there to help those who need it,” she solemnly said, biting back her indignation towards the older fox, “Clearly, you misinterpreted it to mean ‘secreted history’, but the line you just assigned so  _ brazenly _ yourself is what  _ He _ does, seeing what ‘could have been’ if we had chosen differently. By trusting in  _ His _ love for us and each other, we can do what is right, just, and merciful, no matter how hard it is.”

“Preach it, sister,” Mr. Never mocked and pulled out from the first box a long, wickedly curved pierce of iron rusted and stained with blood, “but if you could come down from your pedestal for a second, you would see a piece of history that many wish and pray never was, one that I think you’ll be  _ very _ interested in,” he excitedly declared, “ _ The _ Scarlet Hook.”

The vixen’s face blanched and ears pinned back, gelatinous legs only just bracing the floor as it spun beneath her,  _ That… I sincerely hope -- but doubt -- that is also a forgery… _ she thought, and found herself walking closer,  _ The Executioner… the Reaper’s Crook… said to have been wielded by Captain Piberius Savage himself… but Grandpub still has both paws, so far as I know, and yet this hook was obviously used as a prosthetic… it still has a piece of rotted wood on the other end… it was even mentioned in Hector Howard’s journal…  _ She gawked a bit longer at the vile implement held with such care in the literally gloved paws of Mr. Never and blinked as the thing was stowed into its lockbox once more. Her frightened, blue eyes glimpsed to the second box,  _ What could that one be…? _

Mr. Never placed a paw on its lid and drummed his fingers once, but instead reached for the remote to flick its single switch to a mechanized whirring overhead. “This next one is one of my prized possessions,” he explained and directed Esther’s attention upward.

She shrieked when the circular shutter opened to reveal the titanic skeleton of a stag, hanging from the ceiling as though by his splayed arms and legs; the antlers were clearly broken off and reattached to further the mockery, as were colorful drapes strung about him as loose robes.

“The fallen king of Forestdwell,” Mr. Never explained, “Those aren’t his  _ real _ bones, of course, I have  _ most _ of them in cold storage, but history will have you believe that he died valiantly, in a war against the Barbearians that lay siege to his kingdom. It was crippled by the ‘misfortune’ of plague and natural disasters that ravaged it after the death of Laverne Hopps, and it was widely believed that the stars themselves were angered by her demise and so cursed the kingdom and all its inhabitants. Maybe ‘cursed’ is too nice a term for what happened because this unlucky fellow’s corpse was found tied to a destroyed pirate ship as its figurehead, antlers sawed off and put back on again. I have the pictures to prove it, too.”

_ Aslan’s Mane… _ the vixen dreaded, frozen in place by the macabre spectacle above her. Her ears then flicked at the sound of another mechanical click, and when blue eyes returned to the older fox, she found that a firearm was trained on her.

Mr. Never stood on the side of the table nearer the office door, and clearly, his paw was no longer numb from the electric deterrence of an especially secure velvet box, the briefcase in which it hid he pointed at with his other paw. “Alrighty, Esther  _ Luckily _ Grey,” he said with a grinning snarl, causing a flinch from the vixen as he used her  _ correct _ middle name, a name she did not often give out, “You’re going to open that case and put Laverne’s necklace on the table…”

“As if I, even  _ now _ ,” she declared, gripping the briefcase tighter to scavenge what steel she could, “would betray-”

“Oh,  _ shut up _ ,” Mr. Never spat, “Do you trust that little fox out there to stick around for backup? He probably bolted the first chance he got. And what about the  _ rabbit _ , is he bravely waiting in the wings? Don’t make me laugh.  _ Maybe _ the polar bear… but  _ oh _ , wait, he works for the  _ big _ gest rat in the city, so we all know where  _ his _ loyalties lie,” he sneered, “You’re a  _ fox _ , Esther, so you’d better start acting like one.”

“Did it never occur to you that it’s foxes like  _ you _ that ruin it for the rest of us?” she resolutely answered, foot shifting the slightest bit towards the door, heart pounding in her ears.

“I might vomit,” he dully said, “You’re pretty, I’ll give you that, and maybe when I’m done with you I’ll go see what ‘Ma’ looks like in that  _ skimpy _ swimsuit of hers,” he growled, “Now, be a good little kit and do as your told, and then I’ll only shoot you in the foot, instead of shooting you in the  _ knee  _ as payback for kicking me in the face.”

His mobile phone rang.

Neither fox breathed for an eternal second.

His phone rang again and he sighed while retrieving it from his pocket to languidly wave it about, “This is my ‘important phone’, so I should take this. You don’t mind, I assume…?”

“No, go ahead…” she mutely responded,  _ He’s not going to take his eyes off me for a second… _ she worried, and likewise, did not dare take her eyes off him,  _ Nivins said that this briefcase is bulletproof so maybe I can use it as a shield, but it’s not big enough to cover all of me, and he’s more than willing to cripple or kill… _

Mr. Never answered his cell as it rang for the third time. “ _ What? _ ” he barked, it pressed to his ear.

Esther’s keen hearing picked up a voice on the other side, a voice unheard in years and years…  _ Mack? _

“Today is the day you will always remember as the day, you almost caught-”

The older fox’s face contorted first in outrage and confusion, but then in surprise and pain as he yelped from a sudden, high-pitched siren that blasted from the phone’s speaker and directly into his eardrum. Mr. Never collapsed to the ground, whining and writhing in agony as he clutched his skull, a single drop of blood trickling from his ear.

“Esther, run!” the Sparrow said over the phone as it fell, and then the call ended upon collision with the floor. She didn’t need to be told twice (even if she stumbled a bit from the peripheral effect of the siren) and turned on a heel to bolt for the still ajar door, bursting through it and kicking it shut to muffle the screaming fury beyond; the elaborate locking mechanism automatically put into place, and might just buy her a few precious seconds.

“Esther!” Finnick called, halfway through the smoky, cluttered office and holding a shotgun curiously sized for him, and then breathed in relief, “You’re okay…”

“In a manner of speaking,” she gasped, putting a paw to her forehead.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here!” he urged and dropped the shotgun to grab her paw instead.

“Mack just-!”

“I know!” Finnick answered, “He’s been tailing us ever since we left Tundratown, already got into Never’s databases.”

“What about the virus?”

“He said he ‘had a good laugh’,” Finnick reported as they dashed through the waiting room. The mole was unconscious and groaning on the floor behind her desk with the CRT monitor and its shattered screen sitting nearby.

“What happened to-?”

“Yeah, Mack gave me a heads-up about what was happening in there, and then I saw  _ her  _ duck under the desk, so I pushed the monitor over before she could get back up. That’s when I found the shotgun,” he explained as they traversed the hallway. 

“Going up, loves?” the elevator chimed in Mack’s voice as it opened on their approach, immediately closing upon their entry, “Hold on to…  _ something _ , this’ll be right quick.”

“Oh gosh,” Esther panted, crouching down and mutually bracing with Finnick as the freight elevator jerked and lunged upward until the pulley overhead almost squealed. It slowed and stopped with a soft  _ ding _ , opening up to allow the two of them to escape back into the seedy lobby. The Sparrow’s voice did not come up again during the ride, but Esther was grateful enough,  _ Thank you, Mack… if I ever get to see you again, I promise not to immediately slap you. _ As she had hoped, Boris and Nivins were waiting outside… but she couldn’t help but notice the dissipating smell of gunfire and the numerous bullet holes that riddled the inside of the lobby.  _ And to think, my closest brush with death used to be when I was almost hit by a moped… those days don’t come back…  _ she lamented.

“Maybe I should’ve kept that shotgun…” Finnick worried as they hurried along.

“No need,” Koslov calmly thundered, clapping his paws of metal shards and bits of glass that were not strong enough to penetrate his thick pelt. In the street were three cars, roughly sized for the smaller, shiftier mammals frequenting Underland, folded in half like paper amidst spent shell casings. “The meeting went well, it seems.”

“‘Went _well_ ’?” Nivins demanded, furiously snapping his golden pocket watch closed, “I do _not_ consider being _shot at_ any kind of ‘well’, Mr. Koslov, especially not when said meeting runs _thirteen_ _minutes_ late!”

“Never’s goons were greenhorns, McTwisp, just as explained,” he calmly reiterated, brushing off his sleeves and fixing his jacket, “Fired all guns at once instead of in waves, gave plenty of time to intercede while reloading. Is almost insult,” he grimly smirked.

The pale rabbit huffed and addressed the foxes, “Be that as it may,” he calmly said, “we can thank our lucky stars that no one was seriously hurt, but we are still deep in unfriendly territory and Mr. Never seems the type to hold a grudge, so, I’ve arranged for secure,  _ timely _ transportation for the four of us.” His ears swiveled down the lamplit road to smile with approval, “A glimmer of hope in an otherwise dark situation: punctuality.”

Up rolled an armored vehicle (thusly crushing the three smaller, already wrecked cars beneath tires that would rival a tractor’s), its chassis a bright but inky sheen, windows tinted except for the driver, who was none other than Mr. Manchas himself, the trusted chauffeur of Mr. Big, tipping his hat as the window rolled down. “I came as soon as you sent the message, Boris, and lucky me, these rabbits roll up with a luxury  _ tank _ . Your nose is right again,  _ amigo _ , but there’s no time to boast,” he explained out the open window, and then clapped the door with urgency, “ _ ¡Andale! _ ” he declared before once more closing the shielded glass. The suicide doors opened automatically as a staircase extended down to the curb, if only for the foxes and Mr. McTwisp himself, since Koslov could easily climb in. 

“I had to order the warren-sized vehicle, of course, otherwise we could not fit everyone,” McTwisp casually explained as the doors closed behind them, and only then did he remove the cuff from Esther’s wrist. Within it was the height of automotive style, comfort, and protection, the outside world on the other side of armor plating and bulletproof tinted glass, an environment which the smaller predators felt they could easily relax in. “You can dictate your reports to me on the way back to wherever you’d like to be dropped off,” Nivins further elaborated, taking a seat and pulling around a sturdy desk on a swiveling, adjustable arm, the briefcase set between his feet.

“I guess it’s Tundratown for me and Koslov,” Finnick reasoned, and the polar bear casually grunted in affirmation, “I’ve got a  _ long _ night ahead of me…”

“This is far more exciting than I’d expect for a workday, and would like to get back to Bunnyburrow tonight if I could,” Esther said, forcing easier breaths as she removed the hairpins holding her bangs up, “I just found out my parents are coming in early.”

“Of course, Ms. Grey, I’ll inform the pilot you’ll need a return flight. But that reminds me, I’ll also need to look into  _ why _ the cruise is returning a day ahead of schedule,” the Felix’s right-paw bunny said, and then turned to a uniformed rabbit with a tablet, “write that down, it’s very important. Probably some malfunction or other…” he sighed, “It never ends, I suppose.”

Koslov grunted again, if contemplatively, “No rest for the wicked.”

* * *

Within the dim, smoky clutches of his hovel, Mr. Never held an ice pack to his chin to ease the ache of both it and his paw, his head tilted so that Mrs. Foss could fit cotton into his ear. He grumbled obscenities about a day wasted, due to clients he had to reschedule to fit in a last-minute appointment of city-shaking importance; about resources lost when the guns he sent to intercept Esther and Finnick at street level were so easily thwarted; about the worst humiliation he’d ever had to suffer…

The phone rang. His  _ ‘important _ ’, cracked phone. He spat another obscenity before answering it and swatted his secretary away. “Yeah,” the fox groaned.

“What happened?”

Mr. Never growled and slapped the ice pack onto the desk. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“What. Happened?”

“You tell  _ me _ ,” he threatened, “This is what I get for trusting a  _ rabbit  _ with my security. Everything was going  _ fine _ until some,” he cursed, “called  _ my _ phone, my  _ private _ phone, and-!”

“This is my fault... I should have known better than to trust a  _ fox _ with a simple task,” the rabbit on the other line accused, “Somehow, you managed to compromise security that outclasses  _ City Hall’s _ . Idiot.”

Mr. Never sprung to his feet and struck his desk, ignoring any pain that shot through his fist. “I’m not an idiot; your stupid, ‘invincible’ system was  _ hacked _ , Magnus, but once I find out who did it, I’ll take great pleasure in stringing them up by their…” he froze, and sunk back down into his seat as he realized something, “‘You almost caught’… it was the Sparrow… he found me…”

“ _ The  _ Sparrow?” Magnus disbelieved, and almost sounded worried despite his perpetual accusation, “Why is the  _ Sparrow _ involved with you  _ at all _ ? What did you  _ do _ to get on the Sparrow’s radar?”

Mr. Never sat reeling, paw draped over his face as he stared, and then lunged forward to grip his desk, “He said ‘Esther, run!’… They know each other somehow…”

“The worst pirate on the dark-web, some  _ antelope _ from Ficus Grove who has never done anything except be a fly in my ointment…  _ just so happens _ to know the one vixen who walked Laverne’s carcanet  _ into your office _ … and he saves her,” the rabbit seethed. Deafening rage and profanities bellowed from the other side of the phone as Mr. Never held it away and covered his still sore ear, flinching at the sound of destruction in another part of the city broadcast over a mobile network. Labored breathing soon followed as Magnus spoke again, “I don’t need this,  _ fox _ , I’ve already got Oswald watching me like a  _ hawk _ , and I’m very sure that sad excuse for a son of mine is trying to trip me up, too, even though he’s in  _ traction… _ ”

“Breathe, Magnus; Lapis isn’t going to let that necklace out of his sight, which works just fine for me because I know where it  _ is _ ,” Mr. Never said, “So long as you keep your end of the bargain, I’ll keep mine.”

“About that. The timetable is pushed back,” he said matter-of-factly, if through grinding teeth.

“What? No, it’s  _ not _ ,” the fox denied, “Don’t tell me that you need Knotash  _ completely _ empty to reprogram their servers?”

“Of course I do!” the rabbit snapped, “Why do you think I sent them off to Bunnyburrow in the first place; for laughs? As it is, I’ll need to stall those moving trucks however I can, because if those superstitious morons catch  _ my  _ techs in their homes and businesses with  _ my  _ reputation already on the ropes, then it’s the investigation to end all investigations and everything goes up in smoke!”

Mr. Never stared, dumbstruck as he wrapped his brain around the news. “ _ Everything _ everything?”

“Every _ thing _ , every _ one _ ! We need the processing power of  _ every  _ server in Knotash if we want this to work, and we need it done before anyone catches it before it’s ready, because we’re  _ all _ screwed otherwise. Every. Single. One of us. Is that simple enough for you to understand?”

The fox’s head dropped to the desk, arm covering it. “I should have never listened to you… and now I’m going down in flames with you and the rest of-.”

“I’m sorry,  _ what _ ?” Magnus scoffed, “As I recall, you blithering idiot,  _ you _ came to  _ me _ . Or have you forgotten  _ why _ ?”

Mr. Never didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought. Just get the carcanet back, whatever it takes. No one can know that it’s been intact all this time. And you know what? If you have to go through Oswald, then so be it; he’s become a thorn in my side.”

“Right, umm… so, there was something else in the briefcase with the necklace, a small black book. It didn’t really  _ stand out _ to me at the time, except for where it was, but if Lapis-”

“A black book?” Magnus interrupted, “Sized for a  _ fox _ , or…?”

“Not unless it was Esther’s ‘little black book’, which… she had her phone so I can’t imagine she’d need something archaic like a book to hold her friends’ numbers, and locked in a high-tech briefcase, no less…”

“Hector’s journal… he had Hector’s journal  _ and _ Laverne’s carcanet…” Magnus figured out, “What else did that,” he cursed, “boy have in that,” and then cursed again, but louder, “vault of his! If I’d known what Grav collected, I’d have never given him so much autonomy…”

Mr. Never laughed, high and cold, lounging smugly in his chair. “Well, well,  _ well _ ! Like father, like son, ‘eh Magsy? How’s it feel being on the receiving end this time?”

Magnus was quiet at first, eventually adding some laughter of his own to the conversation, but with each decibel that he crept up, it grew colder and darker and withered the fox where he sat. “If you weren’t on the other side of a phone,  _ ‘alpha-fox’ _ , I’d skin you alive and make you into an ugly coat, so that I could burn it as a favor to the world before sewing its charred remains back onto your flesh.” When several beats passed without a response, Magnus continued, “Now then, you have something more productive to do than waste my time, right?”

“Right,” Mr. Never whimpered.

“ _ Good _ . As for Esther…” the rabbit mulled, “Supai will pay handsomely for her all the same… and maybe I can still get  _ something  _ out of this whole Night Howler headache…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Zorrita" is the best I can figure for "young/small female fox" in Spanish; to my understanding, "z*rra" is an unkind thing to call a lady even if it is the Spanish word for a female fox (much like "b*tch" is the word for a female dog in English). Tangentially, "Bloqueado" is the Spanish word (perhaps diminutive) for "to lock".
> 
> What Mr. Never mentions, "O Chronicler of moments that never were", was originally "The witness to moments that never were" but I wanted to tie in the Chronicler faith into that single phrase. I was inspired by the Narnia story "Voyage of the Dawn Treader" when Aslan tells Lucy that "We can never know what might have been but we do know what will be", and though the entire scene in the book is not in the movie (thus, the importance of this line) I wanted to include something like it; including an omitted line about "what might have been" feels poetic. "The Neverwere Moments", additionally, had no deep meaning behind it other than a cute way to describe a fanfiction, and I thought to make it a series of far more than just Zootopia, but it's become something of its own thing... we'll see what the future holds, won't we?
> 
> Mack's back and quoting Capt. Jack Sparrow. Cue the daring escape theme!
> 
> “write that down, it’s very important" is a cute callback to the trial scene of "Alice in Wonderland", wherein the jurors were instructed to document superfluous information.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [We've got lots to get through so let's catch our breath and enjoy a day at the faire.]

“The moniker of any historian or stuck rhino is: ‘To go forward, you must first go  _ back _ ’.

“The first Tri-Burrow Reunion was considered  _ the _ event which originally founded Bunnyburrow roughly one-hundred-and-twenty years ago, and in many interpretations it still  _ is _ , but more recent historical data has provided an insight to the first  _ farms _ established eleven years prior. Back then, the population was entirely rabbits and horses, settlers and escapees from war-torn countries across the world; they banded together on the distant outskirts of the burgeoning metropolis and free-city, Zootopia (led by a draft horse named Philippe Wilson, by the way). For some decades, Bunnyburrow remained unmarked on any map until the population  _ exploded  _ when rabbits, horses, and other species fled the fallen kingdom of Forestdwell, bringing with them whatever goods and expertise they could. This surged Bunnyburrow’s prominence amongst its sister boroughs of Deerbrooke and Knotash to become the breadbasket that it is today.

“Hare’s Bluff, or the ‘Honey Hills’, was established after a schism between rabbits and hares in Bunnyburrow’s early days that -- even now -- no one’s really sure was caused by,” Bo further expounded as the group walked from Lanny’s truck, through the parking lot, and toward the front gates of the TBR, “Such tensions have since been smoothed over, for the most part. The Honey Hills was, and still is, bear territory -- little-known fact -- even if they keep to their seclusion more so than the hares which live alongside them.”

“Tha’s great, Mr. History-Buff,” Gideon interjected, “ _ except _ I asked about the Knottedwood?”

“I’m  _ getting _ there. Now let’s see,” the brown rabbit pondered as he kept on Nick’s tail and Judy’s side while passing off a salute to a group of other Burrow Watch members, “Just beyond Hare’s Bluff is the Knottedwood, which is  _ shrouded _ in mystery, an important preface; no one could say with certainty for the longest time that is  _ was  _ actually inhabited, since anyone else who tried to navigate it found themselves half-starved, after being lost in its twisting roots and branches for days on end.”

“I’ve  _ never  _ understood how trees can be  _ magnetic _ ,” Travis wondered aloud, “If I didn’t know a fox that came from there, I’d have thought it a most fanciful story. Unfortunately, Ruth Grey doesn’t know the science behind it either, only that ‘it’s just how it works’. No offense, Gid.”

“None taken,” he assured, “Ma always said her duty was to Pa, not the Knottedwood. We went back there  _ once _ to get medicine to help Essy’s fox-flu, but never again since  _ mine _ wasn’t as bad.  _ I _ don’t remember a whole lot, too young as I was, and Essy wouldn’t know much of it, either.”

“The Knottedwood, or ‘Bloodwood’, as some rabbits will call it on account of its red bark,” Judy chimed in, “was said to be inhabited by foxes ever since the first farms of Bunnyburrow. I did quite a lot of research on it back when I was younger,” she then explained to an amusedly curious Bo, “It’s actually where the concept of the ‘Bloodwood witch’ (or just ‘bloodwitch’) comes from, if you believe the eyewitness testimony of those who’ve tried to get to the forest’s center.”

“A specific squirrel housing developer, for example,” Nick tacked on, and then continued with heavy insinuation, “I’m sure a few of their construction workers called it ‘witchcraft’ when their machines ‘mysteriously broke down’.”

“Don’t forget the ‘Bloodwitch of Muddy Swamp’,” Lanny offhandedly mentioned.

“The what of where?” Gideon asked.

“An urban legend from the Marshlands, older than  _ I _ am,” Nick scoffed, “Apparently a fox was spotted throwing crates and roof tiles  _ with their mind _ .”

The farm-fox chuckled excitedly, “That sounds  _ cool _ .”

“It sounds fanciful,” Travis repeated.

“It also has backing in the historical mythos,” Judy added on.

“ _ Fascinating _ , I’ll need to read up on that,” Bo decided with a growing grin, and then thought aloud, “What could cause such a perception, and in recent times, too?”

“I’ll put my money on ‘too many over-the-top comic books’ since that  _ minor _ legend cropped up at around the time such things sprung into wider popularity,” Nick dismissed, “Don’t get me wrong, ‘The Beast’, ‘Captain Warren’, and the  _ new _ ‘Mr. Foxglove’ is all well and good, but give me a classic spy story any day.”

“Like the  _ old _ Mr. Foxglove,” Gideon pointedly recalled.

“Like the  _ correct _ Mr. Foxglove,” Nick said over his shoulder.

“I agree with you, Stretch,  _ noir  _ Mr. Foxglove is his best readin’, but wha’s so bad about the new stuff? Peekin’ through time and dodgin’ bullets ain’t  _ half _ so strange as what all else is out there.”

“My reasoning is  _ pretty  _ deep; I wouldn’t want to bore you with the explanation.”

“Hipster.”

“Fanboy.”

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Judy sighed, turning around to walk backwards, ears pointing at either fox, and then proceeding right-ways again, “aside from Ruth and Jackie, I’ve not heard of any foxes coming out of Knottedwood (and  _ them _ only this weekend), only that they’ve been spotted and photographed in the shadows of its boughs. No doubt that picture of Piberius and Clawdia Savage with their six kits is something of a unique occurrence.”

“Could I have a copy of that, Bangs?” Nick asked his cousin while pulling out his phone.

“You sure it won’t spoil any of its  _ mystique _ ?” Gideon teased, mimicking the action to send the requested monochromatic keepsake. Their mobile devices interacted as they walked, and when Nick received a file, so did Gideon, “Hey, what’s  _ this _ ?” the stouter fox huffed, looking at the unnamed video.

“What’s what?” Nick wondered, and leaned over to inspect the screen, “Not sure, I know  _ I _ didn’t send it.”

“Let me guess,” Travis broke in, playfully so, “One of you tried to double-dip on a phone number exchange?”

“Yeah, that happened on Sunday,” Lanny explained, “Gid and I were exchanging numbers, and then Nick jumped in at the last second.”

“ _ Naughty _ ,” the ferret implied with a wag of his finger, and then continued normally, “I’ve seen it happen before. You’ll need to call  T-Mobull and get it squared away before you accidentally send something…  _ private _ ,” he snickered.

“Sounds like that should’ve been patched a long time ago,” Nick critiqued.

“And  _ how _ often do you update your phone?” Judy inquired.

Gideon groaned with uncertainty.

“Finnick updates my phone,” Nick quietly relayed.

The ferret and gray bunny hummed smugly to one another.

“Well,” spun the taller fox, grabbing the stouter fox by the shoulders in a hug, “Gid and I are cousins, open books to one another, so…” he looked again at the unnamed video, “don’t open that until we can get somewhere secluded.”

“Yeah- _ huh _ ,” came the reply, smirking as a fist bumped under his cousin’s chin to nod his head, “Open  _ comic _ books, cous’, tha’s us.”

* * *

Metallic quacking signaled the activation of a shooting gallery, whereat Gideon and Travis poised with their BB guns, plucking off minutely dented, brightly-painted waterfowl in rapid succession.

“I gotta admit, Trav, you handled the news about Nick and Essy rather well,” the fox discreetly said to his kithood friend, squeezing the trigger of the toy gun to pop another duck off its track, “I think they’re still a bit…  _ y’know _ , since it only happened  _ yesterday _ .”

“I  _ am _ an actor, after all, I know how to hold back,” the ferret boasted matter-of-factly, matching the other shot-for-shot, “That’s some mind-blowing news, though… to think that could ever happen to Esther and Nick! I guess you just never know some mammals, huh?”

“Ma and Pa are gonna  _ flip _ when they find out…”

“‘When’,  _ not _ ‘if’?”

“This’ll be hard to cover up, and I’d rather they hear it from one of  _ us _ ,” Gideon stated, “They’ll need to be eased into it, I think.”

“Maybe… or just come out and say it, like taking off a bandage?” Travis suggested, and then sighing as he glanced over at Nick flicking rings onto empty  Cub Soda bottles, “Still hard to believe…”

“Yeah…  _ never _ woulda thought Essy might actually settle down with anyone. The rest of the Corner’s gonna be  _ shocked _ ,” he chuckled.

“ _ I _ never thought  _ Nick _ would,  _ either _ !” Travis admitted, “I haven’t known him very long, but he is a  _ very _ hard fox to get a read on. Did he actually guess her middle name?”

“More like  _ tripped _ over it,” he laughed.

“My goodness, can you imagine what their  _ kits _ will be like?”

Gideon grinned all the wider, “Oh, I have ev’ry intention of bein’ the  _ best _ uncle in the world,” he loftily decided, “Gonna fill their brood up with buckets of sugar before givin’ ‘em back.” He and Travis laughed while setting down the BB gun as the shooting gallery concluded.

The ferret put down his own toy firearm and then pointed up at a smiling, plush ear-of-corn for the wolverine vendor to pull it down with a hook. “Quinton  _ loves _ corn-on-the-cob, so he’ll think this a laugh riot.”

“Oh yeah, he’s your hubby, right? Porcupine, I think you said,” the fox said with a grin, and pointed up at a colorful, whirligig toy.

“Well remembered, Gid, and yes, anything that we do is done  _ very  _ carefully,” he mentioned with a smirk, before offhandedly whispering, “It’s a good thing he’s getting his quills clipped, too, because I don’t want to dig them out of the wall again after he finds out that a  _ predo  _ kidnapped the first fox cop and his girlfriend. He’s  _ very _ involved in the predo community where we live, and this whole thing with Tad Wooler will be a black spot on all of us for  _ years _ .”

“Yeah, for predos, sheep… pawnshop owners,” Gideon listed off, and smirked to Travis’s quirked brow, “Truth-be-told, Lanny handled the news better than I coulda hoped, all things considered; us country folk knew about Tad (we  _ thought _ we did, at least) so I figured someone from the city might’ve been a bit more… y’know, thunderstruck?”

“He almost seemed… not surprised  _ at all _ . How odd is  _ that _ ? He didn’t even know Tad Wooler  _ existed _ , much less his…  _ hobby _ . He’s cool-headed, I’ll give him that.”

“Lanny’s pretty sly, for a lion,” Gideon commended, spinning the gyroscopic whirligig on the tip of his finger as they returned to the group, “Now, don’t tell him that I told you, but he’s gonna look high-and-low for that first kiss of his when he gets back to the city.”

“How romantic,” Travis also commended, and coolly subjective though his  _ tone _ was, he spared a slight squeeze of the smiling, plush ear-of-corn.

* * *

“Oh Nick,  _ look _ , they have a dragon,” Judy pointed out, directing the fox’s attention to a palm-sized figurine of what could easily be described as a  _ large _ , green, fuzzy dragon with kind, soulful eyes.

Said fox studied it with some manner of professional critique, even rubbing his chin, “The wings are kind of small, and while it certainly looks kid-friendly, I’d go more for a… castle-sieging, knight-roasting, maiden-stealing dragon. You know… the  _ cool _ kind.”

“Gid’s right, you have the  _ worst _ standards,” Judy quipped, “You and Esther are perfect for each other.”

“Which is  _ why _ I need to find the perfect thing to get for her, and why I asked you to guide me,” Nick responded, “Would she  _ like _ a snuggly-wuggly dragon, or maybe she’d like this dynamically-posing spider-thingy instead, or…?”

“Honestly, she’ll like anything you get her,” the rabbit said, and to the roll of his eyes, continued, “She’ll like it because she knows  _ you _ picked it out for  _ her _ . That’s how it works, Slick. Besides, you’ve been secretly courting each other for almost a year, so you should have picked up on  _ plenty  _ of things she likes.”

Nick scoured the multitudinous other figurines with intense concentration before selecting a gold-crowned robin in flight, it’s vibrant, redbreast resembling a heart, “Here we go, but first I need to check something…” he said, and pulled out his phone to compare it with an image on the screen.

“Whoa, Nick!” Judy jumped, pushing the mobile device out of view, warm ears and wide eyes flicking about, especially to the many daughters of the tiger who was vending the many, tiny figurines. They did not seem to notice whatever it was Judy attempted to hide from them, and so returned to running the stand while she berated her partner on the force, “Why do you have Esther like  _ that _ as your wallpaper?”

“ _ She _ picked it out,” Nick easily explained, even smirking some as the gray bunny withdrew in bashful awkwardness.

“Oh.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Carry on, then.”

“Did you know that she has a tattoo on her…?”

“A crowned, winged heart with ‘Hail the King Robin’, yes; I helped her pick it out,” Judy quickly answered and rubbed her neck, “And from the looks of it, she gets it touched up.”

“Fun little cultural symbol that, maybe I should get one to match on my-”

“Nick!”

* * *

The gauntlet was thrown. The challenge, set. It was time to decide, once and for all…

Bo and Lanny (and everyone else) stood before a rambunctious high-striker run by a moose, spinning a large rubber mallet around the knuckles of his hooves. He would make a show of playing it himself, sending the puck up along the track to strike the bell at the very top. And at the very top was the picture of a golden “Kyuubi doll”, a collector’s item from a discontinued line of overseas fox-figurines of exquisite craft. It caught Judy’s eye for only an instant, but that was all the motivation Bo needed to swing for it.

“Dang,” the brown bunny eventually admitted, huffing as he returned the large rubber mallet after his third attempt, scratching behind an ear in bewilderment, “I just can’t seem to get above  _ ‘I felt that!’ _ .”

“‘Twas a  _ mighty _ fine effort, li’l bunny, the strongest longest-ear I’ve seen as of yet,” the vendor complimented to then reward a smiling, plush carrot, “For the missus.”

Gideon certainly looked eager for a chance at another strength contest (especially after Travis’s goading) but it was Lanny who promptly stepped up to try his paw. The moose was only more than willing to let him. “All sizes, all strengths are welcome,” he’d boast, and relinquished the hammer, “Let’s see what the big fella has to offer.”

The lion stood in position and brought the fairground bludgeon up high behind his head, and then swung it to send the weighted puck rocketing up to…  _ “Not bad, not bad!” _ . The high-striker merrily chimed.

“A  _ solid _ swing, good sir! Let’s get you a-”

“Another shot,” Lanny interjected and handed over his second ticket. The moose was only more than willing to accept. The tawny titan leaned the mallet on his leg as he spat into his palms and rubbed them together rigorously. He glowered with determination and braced the ground to bring the mallet back again, readying it with an aiming arch before striking it down with another, greater collision of rubber to the metal-and-plastic pedal.

_ “Almost there!” _ the high-striker merrily chimed.

“Im _ press _ ive!” declared the moose, and reached up for one of the better prizes, “That deserves-”

“One. More,” the lion nearly growled, crimson eyes locked on the bell at the very top, practically shoving the ticket onto the vendor. He breathed long and low to gather his strength, recalling days at the docks where he hoisted solid-steel crates over his head, or a fellow lion with a sprained ankle over his shoulder while tucking his dropped cargo under an arm, to get not only him to the med-bay but his task fulfilled, as well.

The mallet reached back until it nearly touched Lanny’s tail, the muscle beneath his pelt and shirt heralding the oncoming storm as the rubber head  _ careened _ into the high-striker’s pedal. Up its track the puck did ascend, past  _ “What a hit!” _ and  _ “Was that thunder?!” _ to deform the bell at the very top from the sheer impact, announced with a dull, dying ring (as well as something snapping, falling away in the back). The moose vendor was particularly flabbergasted if the jaw hitting his feet was any indication, and though he was ready to read the riot act about breaking his machine…

“I wonder what  _ this _ is,” Judy coyly asked Nick as they stood behind the moose, she holding a long piece of hardened, malleable plastic, “Might be a  _ belt _ of some kind, but it fell off the  _ high-striker _ ?”

“And look at what was just…  _ lyin’ _ around,” Nick pointed out to Judy, holding up a small remote that, when he pushed a button, caused something in the base of the high-striker to softly whirr and the belt to withdraw into it, “I wonder if  _ this _ is why the vendor slipped a hoof into his pocket whenever someone  _ else _ took a swing?”

“That would explain that  _ strange  _ sound I heard under all the bells and whistles, which coincidentally  _ never _ happened when  _ he _ was showing off, wouldn’t it?” Judy reasoned, “Bo Briar, as a member of the Burrow Watch, what might  _ you _ have to say about this?”

“Oh,  _ plenty _ ,” the brown rabbit declared with authority, holding up his Burrow Watch ID to the distraught moose before engaging in a quick exchange with his walkie-talkie. In no time flat, the moose was directed by Mr. Barley, the Burrow Watch Leader, to pack up his “flimflammery” and hit the road (after returning to the Reunion Board for all the proper paperwork, of course).

Lanny found himself with a golden Kyuubi doll that he, in all honesty, had no idea what to do with. So, instead, the lion crouched down and offered it to Judy; she accepted it, but in exchange for a kiss on the tawny cheek. His ears went warm and he rubbed his neck.

“That’s for helping the Burrow Watch catch a scam-artist,” she said with a smile.

Travis leaned over to Nick, “Where did you find this guy, and are there any more left?”

Nick leaned over to Travis, “Now now, let’s not be greedy… there’s plenty of blushing alpha-lion to go around.”

They shared in the lighthearted teasing as the group continued onto the next set of attractions.

* * *

“There, see?” Bo said, pointing at one of a thousand white tents, distinguished only by its sign glistening off the sun low in an afternoon sky:  Comic Books . “I  _ knew _ I saw it yesterday.”

“Well, I’ll be darned,” Judy admitted, “There really  _ is  _ a comic book stand.”

“And why  _ not _ ?” Nick conceded, “After all, we’ve already come across caramel-roasted corn, macramé leis, go-kart racing…”

“Utility vests, barbecue-rice-bowls-on-a-stick, face paintin’…” Gideon added.

“Pet butterflies, the Roar-a-Coaster  _ and _ Tilt-a-Whirl, customized belt buckles…” Lanny recalled.

“Shaved ice with rainbow syrup and, of course, ‘Guess Your Weight’,” Travis included.

Judy gleed, “Today was so much  _ fun _ !”

Gideon held up a notebook, “I can’t wait to get back and try out some new recipes.”

“I’m glad to mention that I was hardly harried at all by any Lookers,” Lanny added with a sigh of relief, “Got a few eager, sidelong glances but nowhere  _ near _ the hassle I feared it would be.”

“A good day, then?” Judy asked.

“A  _ great _ day,” Lanny said in laughter, having a seat just outside the comic book tent as the smaller mammals made their way inside, “I never thought I’d be grateful for spontaneous traffic alerts.” The lion reclined against the reinforced steel frame with only the barest groan, arms up and paws behind his head as he crossed one leg over the other to watch the sun kiss the horizon. “Yeah, it’s definitely been a great day.”

“Truly, there’ve been quite a  _ few _ blessings-in-disguise as of late, by my reckoning,” Travis remarked, exchanging a smile with the foxes as they followed the rabbits beneath the canopy. He stayed outside with the larger predator, pulling out the sea-salt taffy he’d saved and offering some up to share. “Care for some?”

“Oh, thanks. You know, this reminds me of when I was a teenager, sitting next to newspaper stands to read comic books, trading sweets bought with money found on the sidewalk,” Lanny reminisced, pulling from his pocket a bag of gummi-gators to pour some out in exchange for the taffy, of which Travis accepted.

“Gid was more the comic book reader,” the ferret said, and then called over his shoulder, “Weren’t you?”

“You know it!” the stouter fox called back, “My first ever was an issue of the ‘new Mr. Foxglove’-”

“That explains a lot,” Nick jabbed.

“Shush, you,” Gideon snorted, and then dipped into his nostalgia, “It was old and crumpled and stuck in behind the magazines at the store, but he was a fox-as-the-good-guy and that’s all I wanted as a li’l kit. I swept and mopped the kitchen for  _ three _ days so Ma would buy it for me. Took me  _ years _ to get all of ‘em, and o’ course, I fell in love with his earlier spy-capers, even if they were a bit over my head before I grew up.”

Bo gasped. “Juju!” he quietly exclaimed while thumbing through a box on the floor, “It’s the  Winter Wolf arc of Captain Warren… these are  _ impossible _ to find!”

“You’ve been after those for  _ years _ !” Judy excitedly recalled, looking over his shoulder.

Gideon leaned in closer to Nick and his blatant disapproval of the much more vivid and action-packed issue of Mr. Foxglove his cousin was holding up, “Why’re you bein’ such a  _ grouch _ about it, huh? I get that these might over-blow the ‘Mr. & Mrs. Fox’ stories a bit… but at least  _ new _ Mr. Foxglove has a missus! He  _ didn’t _ before-”

“Before saving a ‘gypsy queen’ from certain doom, who then became ‘Mrs. Foxglove’ to aid in the more supernatural cases which  _ just so happened _ to pop up,” Nick retorted. He slipped the respective issue out from the appropriately labeled box that Gideon was looking through to show a scantily-clad vixen in vivacious (if rustic) dress with obvious magic sparking from her claw-tips. A suit-clad Mr. Foxglove’s silhouette stood suavely in the background with a faint glow of his eyes to mimic the mystic presence, “And lest we forget, gave him  _ powers _ because that’s what he needed.”

“Oh, don’t act all  _ betrayed _ , ya’ baby-kit, this came out before you were even born,” Gideon argued, gently knocking the taller fox with his elbow, “Besides, that was around the time Mr. Foxglove got into the rest of the comic book universe, which  _ already _ had magic and stuff, so he’s jus’ bein’ brought up to speed, as it were.” He then carefully flipped open the issue so well remembered, if in much better condition than his own, “Lookie here: we ain’t got Mr. Foxglove movin’ furniture with his mind like that ‘bloodwitch’ you all seem to know about, right? He’s usin’ what he’s got in reach to take down a whole  _ bunch  _ of assassins! He’s kick-flippin’ coffee tables, bouncin’ kitchen knives off walls to hit someone behind cover…  _ Sure _ , it ain’t as, y’know…  _ realistic  _ as it was before, but what about that ain’t the best you ever seen a fox?”

Nick grumbled, and glanced over at the bunnies going through another box… and then the lion and ferret enjoying the sunset… “They weren’t  _ ‘assassins’ _ ,” he quietly corrected, “they were an elite task force assigned to weaken countries from within to incite revolution in the populace…  _ evil  _ revolution.”

Gideon gawked… blinked… and then grinned. “You don’t say,” he teased.

“I loved Mr. Foxglove as a kit, he was  _ amazing _ ,” Nick begrudged, “I still remember watching the old TV show with my parents, which was truer to the original comic books, by the way, despite the latter’s lack of a vixen cohort. As you know, my Dad -- and often enough, Mom, too -- were called to fit or make a suit for high-paying clients on some other end of the city, gone for two weeks at a time, at least. I’d usually stay with friends of theirs since we didn’t have any other family, and they’d come back with the newest issue of Mr. Foxglove; they had a close friend in publishing, so they were able to get a copy before it even hit the stands. On top of that… Dad would do some of these same stunts, which I’m sure was to make me smile…” Nick opened up to a page and let himself grin, however briefly, and showed his cousin the way that the super-spy walked a chair across the electrified floor of a foyer while picking off adversaries with a stun-gun, “Dad wouldn’t be armed and there’d be little-to-no death-floor, of course, but you get my point, right?”

A flicker of revelation sparked in the blue eyes as he looked from the imagery to his cousin. “You were mad at Uncle John, and so got mad at Mr. Foxglove too, huh?”

Nick sighed and shrugged in confession, “Yeah… but I suppose if I’m willing to forgive one, I should also forgive the other,” he then determined and tucked the comic under his arm.

“Prob’ly, not a bad idea. You buyin’ that?”

“Of course I  _ am _ , Bangs, it’s common courtesy. Even comic book guys are small business owners and need our support,” the taller fox explained at normal talking levels.

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” the capybara running the stand said, if blandly, to whom Nick supplied a thumbs-up.

“Well, I s’pose I’ll get this one, then, goodness knows  _ my _ copy has seen better days,” he chuckled and re-sleeved it to, likewise, tuck it under his arm.

As they turned, there stood Judy with both paws folded behind her back as she sweetly smiled up at them and gently twirled her dress.

“Mark my words, Carrots, I  _ will _ get a conversation past you one of these days,” Nick warned.

“That day’s not  _ today _ , though,” she coyly replied, the girlish demeanor dropping to lean forward the slightest bit with hooded eyes, and then folded both paws in front of her as she once more stood upright to converse, “You’re really coming along, Slick. I still remember that it was pulling teeth to find out your favorite flavor of cake.”

“It took her a while to figure out the  _ correct _ one, though,” Nick reported to his fellow fox, sharing a grin as they did.

“He wrote it on my computer screen at the precinct with his finger every day for a week before I realized what it was,” Judy dully recounted, “I knew he would have won if I asked for help, so I made an educated guess.

“I got  _ three  _ birthday cupcakes that year. It was  _ amazing _ .”

Gideon chuckled and held his stomach. “I should tell you some of the stuff me and Essy did to each other growin’ up. You think city-foxes are pranksters? Wait ‘til you hear ‘bout  _ farm _ -foxes.”

“Where’s Punch?” Nick asked of Judy, even though it was obvious that he was talking with the capybara vendor about a stack of comic books.

“Oh, haggling,” she offhandedly said, and then spoke a little lower, “Have either of you heard from Esther, yet? Sun’s getting real low.”

“Uhh…” Gideon groaned, rubbing his chin, “Well, I was gonna have it be a  _ surprise _ , but if you’re worryin’, then it’s prob’ly better I come out with it,” he began, and then smiled wide as he, too, spoke a little lower, “Essy told me that the Caribouan Cruise (with all the pred families of the Corner?) is comin’ back  _ t’night _ , and that she should be in not too long after sunset. Had somethin’  _ real _ big to share, with all of us.”

“And you didn’t say this  _ sooner _ ?” Nick rebuked.

“What with your li’l shadow over there?” Gideon shot back, glancing at the still haggling Bo, “I weren’t sure how  _ sensitive _ this was, now did I, and it was better to pass it by  _ you two _ before blurtin’ it out to the whole group, right?”

“Good points,” Judy concurred, “If she has anything from Felix Lapis, it could be proprietary. Did she mention anything  _ else _ ?”

Gideon pulled out his phone and brought up the text message she sent to show them both. “As you prob’ly figured, Stretch, she and I got us some  _ codewords _ , jus’ like you and Finnick. Well, this one here, ‘Mom and Dad’? You know tha’s not what we call ‘em, what it  _ means  _ is ‘Watch out, Ma and Pa are coming’ or ‘listening’ or something like that. It’s a  _ warning _ , but I can’t think for the life of me what it could be  _ for _ .”

“She must have overheard something while doing business with the good Felix,” Nick considered, “but needed the discretion of a casual communiqué with family.”

“The Knotash bunnies  _ are  _ leaving…” Judy began.

“And the cruise is returning…”

“Both a day early,” the bunny girl pointed out.

“What could cause Saint Felix to allow such  _ heretical _ schedule changes?”

“Unless  _ he _ didn’t do it. I  _ did _ hear some rumors around the fair about the cruise coming back early, now that I think about it, but if it were something tremendous the grapevine would be  _ much _ hotter than it’s been all day…” Judy admitted, glancing over her shoulder, “Did Travis know?”

“If he did or didn’t, it might not be as important enough issue for  _ him _ to interrupt a day of fun in which nothing bad happened; something I can safely say we  _ all _ needed,” Nick pondered, “That said, if this were _ Magnus’s  _ doing, there would need to be some benefit to those uptight bunnies returning sooner rather than later… like getting the Gravedigger’s gun case back to the city.”

“We don’t have enough information,” she plainly stated, “I’ll ask Bo if he’s heard anything from the Watch-”

“Alright, guys, you’re up!” Bo chimed, toting a rather hefty-looking, double-bagged stack of comic books in one paw, the other throwing a thumb over his shoulder. He looked the three of them up and down as they turned around in a…  _ very _ casual manner. His brow furrowed as the two foxes walked past him, and so he wondered at Judy as she beckoned him closer with a curling finger.

The gray rabbit spoke low,  _ very _ low; a “bunny whisper” that even the keenest of ears of other mammals had a hard time listening in on. “Have you heard anything from the Watch about the Knotash bunnies or the cruise coming in early?” Judy asked.

Brown ears sprung atop an inclined head and shifted in tandem with his eyes. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” he discreetly reported, “The raven sightings have decreased to normal levels, though.  _ Is _ the cruise coming back early?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm, I knew it’d be short-lived that the level of Knotash complaints went down to normal levels, too.”

“Wait… haven’t they left yet? It’s almost sundown!”

“…You’re right, they’re not going to get back to the city before nightfall at this rate,” he worried, unhooking his radio to enter a series of exchanges. Judy looked hopeful but also concerned before he clicked it off, speaking in his normal voice, “It’s an all-paws on deck, Judy; they need every Watch member in The Brambles,  _ pronto _ .”

“What’s wrong?” Travis asked, leaning into the shop as the foxes returned from finalizing their purchases.

“Things are  _ drastically  _ behind schedule with getting Knotash moved out. It took a whole day to get everything set up with  _ optimal _ efficiency, as it is they’ve been trying to put everything back how they found it in a matter of  _ hours _ ,” Bo explained as they exited, looking up at a standing Lanny, “That includes clean-up and balancing books since they’ve effectively been running everything for the past few days. Knotash was expecting the temp agencies they hired to have all of tonight and tomorrow morning to take care of the Corner while they left,  _ but… _ ”

“Ooh… I guess the cruise really  _ is  _ coming in tonight,” the ferret meekly admitted, and then muttered under his breath, “I thought my brother was just being his usual, smart-alecky self…”

“Word came down from the House of Blessings to allow travel in the dark,” Bo continued, “they need to be  _ in _ Knotash by midnight, though, so the timeline’s tighter than a drum right now.”

“Or else… _ what _ , exactly, do they turn into pumpkins?” Nick asked.

“Not if they have anything to say about it,” the brown rabbit responded, “This also supersedes needing to keep an eye on  _ you _ , Gloves, so consider yourself off the hook,” he smirked.

“Blest be,” the taller fox smirked back.

“No rest for the weary,” Judy said, “I’ll need to let my parents know I’m helping Knotash get back home.”

“Oh, Juju, you don’t need to-”

“You bet your cottontail I do,” she declared, giving a determined flex of her arm and grin to match, “Like I’m just going to pass by mammals in need.”

Bo grinned and flexed right back, “That’s the spirit! Now we just need to get a whole  _ fluffle _ of Burrow Watch bunnies from the TBR to Preds’ Corner in a timely manner. Unfortunately, a lot of our caravan is already in use.”

“I learned a fun fact this weekend,” Lanny said, likewise grinning and flexing, “the bed of my truck can comfortably fit  _ fifty _ adult bunnies, even more, if we squeeze them in.”

“And we know this…  _ how _ ?” Travis asked, “I’m not flexing, by the way.”

“I had to get roughly fifty Knotash bunnies to the clinic after a bout of food poisoning on Saturday,” the lion explained, “They’re all okay, though, turns out it was just some expired sauce.”

Gideon (but not Nick) also grinned and flexed.

“I’ll let Mr. Barley know,” Bo said, his walkie-talkie buzzing to life as the group set out to return to the parking lot, “All-in-all, though, I’d still say this was a good day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While only implied here, a “stuck rhino” refers to when their horn accidentally lodges into something but can refer to other such large prey mammals with lengths of bone jutting from their skulls, such as elephants, stags, elk, buffalo, etc.
> 
> "Philippe Wilson" is some fun, literary filigree based on the horse from Beauty & The Beast (1991), combining his name in the film and his two screenplay names of "Wilbert" and "Orson".
> 
> “A specific squirrel housing developer, for example,” references an anecdote of Nick’s from back in chapter 10 of Trustworthy, in which the Knottedwood (and its magnetic trees) prevented construction equipment from entering, and thus prevented some high-class, low-cost condos from going up. Nick suspects that they were actually sabotaged by the foxes living there, as opposed to any “witchcraft”. He does not deny the existence of trees that hinder with electronics, only the extent to which it was claimed.
> 
> "Winter Wolf" is a combination of the two Marvel characters "Winter Soldier" (or James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes) and "White Wolf". In the Black Panther movie, Bucky makes a comeback and is called "White Wolf" by King T'challa, a reference to the same-named comic book character, who for the MCU movies have been combined with Bucky Barnes. Additionally, "Captain Warren" is, for the sake of this story, the Zootopian "Captain America" and was mentioned back in Trustworthy, 19. He still has the red, white, and blue color scheme and general uniform design, but instead of a star on his shield, he has a four-leaf clover. Also from that chapter, "Mr. & Mrs. Fox" is somewhere between urban legend and folklore in the fox culture. Their stories were adapted into modern media and eventually became the "Mr. Foxglove" comic book series.
> 
> "He didn’t even know Tad Wooler existed, much less his… hobby" Travis is talking about how Tad Wooler, a voyeur and predo (prey that really like predators), had a hoof in kidnapping Esther, Judy, and Nick the day before, and back In chapters 13 and 14 of Brave.
> 
> "A large, green dragon with kind, soulful eyes" refers to Elliot from Pete's Dragon (2016).
> 
> “…to the many daughters of the tiger who was vending the many, tiny figurines” is a loose, ironic reference to Rajah from Aladdin, specifically to when the Sultan says "Allah forbid you should have any daughters!", as well as the Sultan’s figurines.
> 
> “Sun’s getting real low” is a slight nod to Black Widow's mantra to calm down the Hulk in the Avengers.
> 
> The “golden ‘Kyuubi doll’” is a pun on the Kewpie doll, and a "Kyuubi" is a Japanese fox spirit.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	11. Chapter 11

Nick and Gideon bid good night to Judy, Bo, Lanny, and Travis as they were dropped off near his bakery, at the very end of a long street leading to the forest wedged between Bunnyburrow and Preds’ Corner, and where his van still sat. Nick had offered to provide his cousin some company since Bo no longer needed to keep an eye on him, as per the instructions of the Burrow Watch leader to instead aid the departure of the Knotash bunnies (which Judy was keen on helping with), and Travis needed to hurry back to his parents’ house for some last minute care of exotic fish. Luckily, Lanny was more than willing to oblige in his continued role of courier (even with the several dozen Burrow Watch rabbits hitching a ride in the back of his truck) because it “kept his mind occupied”.

“So what were you and Jude whisperin’ about on the way over, anyway?” Gideon asked as they walked the remaining distance from the drop off point, each toting a comic book along with what all else they acquired during their day at the TBR, “Which, I gotta say, you really  _ can _ speak bunny, what with your mouths movin’ but no words comin’ out.”

“There’s no denying that it’s a useful skill, even if I cheat by reading her lips. As for the topic, we were brainstorming this whole thing with the cruise and Knotashians,” Nick said, still speaking low and casual, “Both Oswald and Magnus had the power to change those schedules and it’s well within the realm of reason that the two events were connected. Magnus would likely smuggle out Doug’s rifle in any of the moving vans, but it sounds like the Knotash bunnies are OCD enough to polish the lightbulbs on the way out the door, which they wouldn’t have time for if the cruise came back earlier than expected. And yet, why would he draw even more attention especially if he  _ knows _ how they would react? Obviously, it’d be much easier and safer to keep the case hidden for another day and let the schedule run its course, even if Doug is already locked up, right? No matter how you look at it, these same-day events throw a wrench into his plans.”

Nick then sighed and rolled his head over to the other shoulder, “But… this whole moving about at night obviously has those bunnies at their wit’s end, which flies in the face of everything I’ve heard about Oswald looking out for their well being (as said by Judy herself). Apparently, nighttime travel goes  _ well _ beyond reasonable paranoia and deep into ‘Help, help, I’m dying right this very second’. On top of which, sending all the predator families on vacation would have taken ‘bending over backward’ to a whole new level, so unless they were in mortal danger there’s no reason to redirect a cruise ship just to make a blind swing at a counter-play. That said, I’m not going to undercut the cleverness of the Greys, the Tweeds, the Blackfoots (Blackfeet?) and every other predator family on that ship by assuming that they can’t spot mortal danger when it’s coming for them, or wouldn’t tell their families accordingly. So…”

“So…” Gideon followed, “one of them made a mistake, maybe…?”

“Not quite, but not a  _ wrong _ answer, either,” the taller fox explained, “We’re not talking about rookies making rookie mistakes here, Bangs, both Oswald and Magnus are top-of-their game and do not lightly ‘make mistakes’. No, if something happened that they didn’t plan for, then it’s because it was  _ completely _ off-the-wall,” he said, and glanced up at a bird-free sky, “I remember Bo said those ravens had something to do with the bunnies scampering out of town, and they must’ve come from Mallupe but I was  _ darn _ sure not to mention them at all to Lory… She’s a bright girl, though, and her grandpa Ed’s one smart cookie, ancient though he is… So, what if they actually figured out that I was looking for a clue about Doug…?”

“You  _ did _ have somethin’ to do with them!” the stouter fox playfully accused, his paw pushing on the narrow shoulder as they reached the bakery’s back door, “Bet Judy took that well.”

“Well enough,” Nick chuckled, “She also mentioned that Knotash probably wouldn’t ‘go over the Felix’s ears’ even if the stars fell from the sky, so I can’t help but think that the ominous ravens weren’t  _ all _ that scared them off. How _ ever… _ ” he paused, and then tapped his cousin’s shoulder to get his attention, “ _ you _ have to promise to keep a secret, alright?”

Gideon held up a paw in an oath, “I swear on Ma’s apple cobbler.”

“That’ll have to do. This whole thing with scary birds and Mallupe got me thinking: I know of  _ two _ ‘wolf alphas to which all other wolf alphas defer’, and it’s always been the  _ two _ . I learned from Old Eddy this weekend that he figures himself a  _ third _ alpha,  _ et cetera _ , which shifts the balance of power for a lot of Zootopia; I don’t know if he is or not, but I  _ will _ when I get back to the city. Anyway, it gave me the idea that there’s someone  _ else _ pulling strings in this whole debacle.”

The blue eyes quirked with suspicion, doubt, and intrigue. “Who else could do that, though?”

“Off the top of my head? Graham,” Nick said plainly.

“Oh, of course! That, umm… that shiny li’l four-leaf clover which Grav (Graham?) had slipped into Bo’s shirt pocket, I think you said? And you also said he’s fightin’ his pop, on  _ our _ side, I think, so that’s good news for us!”

“Well…”

“It  _ ain’t _ good news?” Gideon asked as he opened up his kitchen to stow some stuff away.

“It  _ would _ be if Graham weren’t hospitalized,” Nick said, following his cousin inside but still holding onto his stuff. He breathed deep the lingering smell of baked goods with a happy sigh, “Judy passed on what  _ she _ heard from her relatives, and from the sounds of it, it’s a miracle that Graham was able to get a message to her  _ at all _ .”

“What I’m gettin’ from this is that you  _ don’t _ know who this shadowy ‘someone else’ is.”

“Not as such, but remember that Magnus was playing this game since before you were in grade school, which is a  _ long _ time to go unopposed and  _ this _ could very well be his first and only major slip-up. The same thing happened when…” Nick paused, catching himself from mentioning anything about Honest John, “…when  _ Bellwether _ was arrested and the floodgates opened about all the skeletons in  _ her _ closet. There might be a line of mammals that goes out the door and wraps around the block  _ twice _ for such the chance to get back at Magnus.”

“Oh… hope it’s not another mob boss or somethin’,” Gideon said but when he put his notebook of recipes in a secure, easy-to-remember spot of his kitchen, turned around with a smile, “A’ight, let’s head back to my parents’ house, I wanna meet them and Essy when they get in.”

“Hold up…”

“What, what’s wrong?” the stouter fox worried.

Nick sniffed at the air again, brow furrowed with suspicion, doubt, and intrigue, “I know that smell…” he said, and lay his stuff onto the counter to stride out of the kitchen and into the storefront, wildly sniffing about, softly muttering, “but why would she be  _ here _ of all places…?”

Gideon groaned first in bewilderment and then in dawning realization as he stood in the adjoining doorway, “Kick me to the moon, that ferret was  _ right _ …” he mumbled with embarrassment and guilt.

“What?”

“Nick… what color are Aunt Jackie’s eyes…?”

Nick stared hard at him. “ _ You _ tell  _ me _ .”

“I don’t s’pose…” the stouter fox said with a slow twiddling of his fingers, “That they’s brown… with te-teeny green flecks…?”

Nick turned fully on him in borderline accusation, “You saw my Mom but you didn’t  _ tell _ me?” and threw up his paws in a groan, “What is  _ with  _ you today, I thought you were just a  _ bit _ slyer than that?”

“N-Now wait jus’ a gosh-darn min-minute,” he tried, “Why didn’t  _ she _ tell you she was here? And she went by ‘Mrs. Barker’ for some  _ daggum  _ reason, unless she remarried on the train ride in! And I’m  _ plenty _ sly, thank you very much! Besides, you and Ma have green eyes, so by what reckoning was I to think that Aunt Jackie wouldn’t have ‘em, too?”

The taller fox rubbed said eyes and the nose bridge which separated them. “Pray tell, what  _ did  _ Travis have to say about her?”

Gideon crossed his thick arms a bit tighter, lips pursing as his tail swept behind him. “He said she was like you, ‘cept older and a vixen,” he mumbled.

“And you didn’t believe him?” Nick wondered, standing closer with his paws on his hips, “Do you  _ have _ to rely on looks to figure out who someone is, or can’t you do something simple like pick out their mannerisms?”

Blue eyes peered up through his bangs as his nose lowered. “Nick… maybe I ain’t  _ as _ sly as you, and Essy, and Judy… and Travis, but I  _ ain’t _ dumb. Aunt Jackie  _ lied _ to me,” he declared and touched his own chest in plea, “No, she didn’t  _ say _ her name was ‘Mrs. Barker’, but it seems to me she didn’t want me knowin’ who she was all the same and lettin’ me think a lie is jus’ as bad as lyin’ itself. And don’t you go actin’ like  _ you _ haven’t kept stuff from me…” he continued to declare, “except you did it  _ on purpose _ .”

Nick feigned a scoff, “What’re you talking about?”

“Stop actin’ like I’m dumb!” the stouter fox advanced, whipping out his phone, “I had myself a look at that video that I’m sure-as-shootin’ you’d’ve  _ never _ send me otherwise, and it was of a fox kit lookin’ all kinds of happy at first, but then he ends up  _ muzzled _ …” he reported, to which Nick recoiled, “You can bet your fluffy, red tail that I have some  _ serious _ questions as to why you’d have it,” Gideon heavily implied, glaring all the harder, “I was all set to give you the benefit of the doubt, too, but I’m startin’ to wonder if you deserve it.”

The taller fox rubbed his mouth to mask his shock. “Honestly, I hadn’t even watched it…” he admitted, and straightened his back a bit with a tumultuous sigh while pulling out his own phone, “Yes… I kept secrets from you, Bangs but… I had solid enough reason to do so… even if they only seemed like good reasons at the time but terrible in retrospect… and hearing about what you saw actually makes sense…

“It was Sunday night, and we -- me and the girls -- were looking for ways to throw the book at Magnus when Esther said that there’s no  _ legal _ documentation for when you went to pred-therapy. I then got the  _ stupendously _ idiotic idea to ask Finnick to dig through the dark-net and find everything he could about…” he gulped and wavered, “Pictures or videos from over fifteen years ago… about fox kits… and muzzles… Maybe, in that time, someone stumbled on it and thought it’d be swell to post it somewhere… He’s a pro at covering his tracks, and apparently… someone  _ did _ post what happened to you… I wouldn’t want anyone else knowing that I have these images, but the phone is encrypted up the wazoo so it’s not really  _ accessible _ …

“I was…  _ afraid _ to look at the video, because the pictures were just…  _ awful _ . It’s why I threw my phone into the rain barrel in the first place, Gid, because Esther and Judy… I didn’t want them seeing you like that… but I’ll tell you what I told  _ them _ …” His thumb tapped and brushed the phone screen to unlock it, to open the file in which the terror hid… and looked down at it, holding it level in presentation before he lifted his face again, “If you want to look at them so  _ badly _ , then I won’t stop you.”

Nick recoiled once more for his cousin stood quaking from head to tail, bristling as he glimpsed the digital photography… with brilliantly silver eyes. They flicked up, locking with the wide, green eyes of the taller fox… and then he turned on a heel to re-cross his arms.

“Maybe I don’t  _ wanna _ look at ‘em,” he decided in a huff.

“Yeah, they’re… they’re not for the photo album, that’s for sure,” he carefully tread, but getting only a heavy  _ harrumph _ . The phone was warily set face-down on the nearby counter, and then Nick wrung his paws some to take another deep breath. “Okay, look, I am…  _ very _ sorry that I said you weren’t…  _ sly _ enough, Gid. You’re  _ right _ , you are a grown tod, and I should stop treating you like… like a baby-kit. So… do you forgive me?” he asked and reached to tentatively grasp the squared shoulder in an attempt to turn him around.

“Yeah, I forgive you,” came the response, but both head and shoulders refused to address.

Nick took a step back to rub his arm, tail swishing in combined agitation and regret. “About Mom, she’s always been… a  _ very _ private vixen. I don’t know why she didn’t tell you her name, but there are a lot of things she hasn’t told anyone… and sometimes she’ll act really…  _ above _ it all, but not without reason, because she usually knows things others don’t, and it’s not always easy to… to know these things, when  _ you _ know it can hurt others.”

A soft grunt answered, back still uncharacteristically turned.

“Would you look at me!”

Another soft grunt answered, along with a shrug.

Nick had his turn to bristle. “Fine! Just… fine! You want to know  _ why _ I keep treating you like a baby-kit? It’s because… because I’ve never  _ had _ a brother, and always wanted one, to raise and protect, just like Esther did with you… and I  _ would _ have had one too, but… I don’t know, maybe he would have been about your age…” he petered off, turning around himself and rubbing at an eye, “Dad was gone at the time, so it was just me and Mom… and she figured that it was a boy, so I’d put my ear to her stomach to talk with him, but… Mom never thought she  _ could  _ have kits, and yet somehow she had me, and then she was pregnant again,” he choked some and then cleared his throat, “They both wanted another kit so badly, I know that much, but it… it was a dark day for us Wildes, and it about broke Dad when he came home and found out about it, even with his brave face. I guess my point is… is that Mom, she… she has a hard time trusting others, because she has a hard time losing them…” he softly choked again, letting slip a word of harsh profanity, “Which makes me about the worst piece of scum in the  _ world _ for leaving like I did…

“So… there you have it, Gideon Grey, that’s why I love you so much because I’m projecting some…  _ desperate _ need to have a younger brother onto you, something I’ve been clinging to for the past thirty years. Goodness knows I tried it with Finnick, which was going  _ swell _ until he found out that he was older than me-” he rambled, stopped only by the pair of arms wrapped around his torso that  _ could _ be described as a “hug” if his own arms weren’t pinned to his sides. Nick flailed some as he was also lifted off his feet, loudly and repeatedly grunting in disapproval as he was spun about and put back onto the ground. When released, he whipped around and questioned those bright (slightly misty) baby-blue eyes smiling back at him with a set of his bewildered “Savage greens” (also slightly misty).

“I love ya’, too, Stretch,” Gideon said and clapped his shoulder with such strength it buckled the taller fox’s already wobbly knees a bit, “and all’s forgiven, but if you wanted a younger brother, you coulda jus’  _ said _ so… I got plenty of experience for that, y’know.” He then rubbed the back of his head, smiling a bit awkwardly, “Though I guess I went kinda tunnel-visioned there… you said you had pics of me back from…  _ y’know _ , and it felt like I was lookin’ through a TV screen in my own head.”

With a thorough straightening of his shirt and the fur atop his head, Nick reclaimed his breath and composure as best he could, “ _ Really _ . Is that what happens when you go ‘Grey-eyed’?”

“I… I did  _ what _ ?” Gideon disbelieved, and rubbed his neck again, “Jumpin’ Jehowlsephat, is that what it’s like… Never did get a good description of it from Pa or Essy whenever  _ they _ got it, so I dunno.” Both foxes took another breath as Nick pocketed his phone, “And… I guess I jus’ gotta be patient with Aunt Jackie… reasons and all, like you said…”

“Still, I’d like to know why they’re both in town but didn’t tell  _ me _ ,” Nick said, crossing his arms in thought, “We’re trying to wipe the slate clean -- not that I’m a moral authority or anything -- but I’m pretty sure Judy would agree that this isn’t a good first step.”

Gideon gasped, paws clapping on his cheeks. “Stretch!” he barked, “That… that ‘ _someone_ _else_ ’ you talked about,” and when the green-eyed surprise shifted to confusion, Gideon continued, “Our faces were on the dark-net, right? And you been dealin’ shady for years, _too_ ,” he said matter-of-factly, to which Nick groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, “but what if… _what if_ you got mammals wrapped around the block to get back at _you_?”

Nick began to dispute the claim… but then rubbed his chin, “I  _ did _ have a text message that fell off my phone this morning…” he wondered aloud, “I could think of a  _ few _ names that might still have a score to settle with me, but if they were going to do anything  _ drastic _ it would’ve been when I became a cop, not when I stirred up trouble out in the country.”

“And what about that Sparrow guy, the super-pirate-hacker? You said he was Mack Mallupe (even though you never  _ said _ it),” Gideon implied, and then winked, “What if the cruise was  _ hacked _ ? What if the Knotash bunnies were hacked? It might not even be the same mammal, right? Your face gets a hit out on it, but what if someone besides Doug wants to take you out? Or jus’ wants to muck with your life, make you think that your folks ain’t  _ actually _ -” he gasped again, and whispered, “What if they’s bein’  _ blackmailed _ ?”

Nick gawked… blinked… and then grinned. “That cornucopia of quackery is not  _ entirely _ out of the realm of possibility Bangs… I’ll need to get a hold of Finnick, he’ll know everyone capable of hacking on  _ that scale _ and whether or not it was the Sparrow, but I’ll need to use my laptop since my phone’s likely compromised.”

“Back to my folks’ house, then?”

“Post haste, but  _ first _ ,” Nick said, “Let me see that video, just in case there’s anything…  _ below-board _ . I’ll back up and purge my phone tonight, and we should probably purge yours, too.”

“Oh, tha’s smart,” Gideon concurred, pulling up what was requested, “I don’t think there was much of anything… ‘below-board’, but I didn’t watch all of it, neither.” The baker brought them both into the kitchen to close the door and turn on a light, holding up the mobile device and tapping the screen. “This part doesn’t seem  _ too _ off, you can tell that the li’l kit is prob’ly wishin’ on a star, all kinds of happy, like I said. Although this might be kinda creepy since it’s gotta be someone recordin’ from across the street or somethin’. I ain’t been to the city, so maybe you’d know better than me. And then the little guy runs up those stairs, excited as can be, is in there for, like, a minute or two before running back out with, well, a  _ muzzle _ , and… Stretch, what’s wrong?”

“Hey, Bangs…”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Are my eyes silver or… some other color than green right now?” he weakly asked.

“ _ No _ , but you ain’t got no color in your face, I can see it right through your fur. D’you know this kit?” he cautiously asked.

Nick cradled the phone, pausing it and rewinding it until he could get a recognizable close-up of the beaming, green-eyed face on that young fox, right before he crossed his little fingers and made a wish upon a pair of falling stars whose paths crossed in the night sky. “This is  _ me _ .”

“Wait…  _ you _ ?” Gideon about choked, looking between the screen and his cousin.

“This  _ is  _ me, Gid, I would know me anywhere and  _ that night  _ has been seared into my memory for twenty-six years. I can trace back to it as when I learned my biggest lessons in life and gave up the world as a cruel, stupid place… lessons that stuck with me until I met Judy…” He groaned and looked at it again, “Was this from a security camera, or something? It does look like it’s above street level, but it’s not steady enough… And  _ why _ does someone have it in the first place?” he nearly yelled, “Why did Finnick send it to me? Does he  _ know _ ?” he did yell and handed the phone back to Gideon to, instead, pace the kitchen.

Gideon stared at the worried fox before him… and then studied the video before tapping it to continue watching, soon enough pouting and fidgeting, “This was when I turned it off, seein’ him…  _ you _ run out with the muzzle on… too many bad memories…”

“I lost a lot of hope that night…” Nick recalled after calming a bit, approaching to peer over his cousin’s shoulder, his ears pinned back as he remembered begging the stars above for an answer… and hearing naught but the echoes of his own despair. They watched as the kit rose and gave the muzzle he’d torn from his face and thrown to the sidewalk a wide berth; both were quiet as the video continued on, staring at the empty piece of sidewalk… “What’s that?” Nick suddenly pointed out.

A shadow emerged from behind the stone stairs which young Nicky had crouched beside… a  _ long-eared _ shadow that swiftly approached the muzzle… paused… and after the long ears swiveled its face snapped immediately to the camera. Whoever was recording the video pulled back into hiding in a blur. The foxes stared at the screen with its transparent button of an arrow curling in on itself for ease of replaying, except neither had the wherewithal to do so.

“Wha’… what jus’ happened?” Gideon sincerely asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Nick admitted, “but…” he breathed in deeply and tapped the screen to ‘replay’, but instead of watching he turned the volume up as high as it would go and tilted the phone so that the speaker was almost inside his ear. Gideon inclined his head with a rub of his chin as he watched the screen. After only a few seconds, Nick stopped it and handed it back, “As you can imagine,” he said in a rather professional tone, “my hearing has grown quite acute in my time with Judy, who is as a _ cute _ as they come, and I noticed something said in the very beginning.”

“I noticed something, too…” Gideon agreed, “nothin’  _ heard _ , but you first.”

“Alrighty,” the taller fox said, “whoever is operating the camera says, quite plainly, ‘I’ve got eyes on John’s son’.” Green eyes shared an unspoken realization with blue. “My thoughts exactly; my parents  _ might  _ be able to provide some insight into this little mystery, at least about whoever would be so familiar with my family as to identify me by my father’s  _ first _ name, and not his  _ last _ . But what’d  _ you _ figure out?”

“Well…” Gideon said with a shrug, “you said this is  _ you _ , but I seen this face somewhere… you sure you never been to Bunnyburrow before?”

“No, never,” Nick dismissed, but then burned with curiosity, “Seen it  _ where _ ,  _ when _ ?”

“It was  _ recent _ …” Gideon pondered, and then pondered a bit louder as he went back to a previous file on his phone, “Yeah… here we go…” he soberly said, “I seen it after cleaning the photo of Ma’s side of the fam’ly, and I’m real glad I snapped a pic before I left the house today.” He enlarged the Savages from the Knottedwood with Grandpa Piberius and Grandma Clawdia but slid the image down to the youngest son in the corner. There was no denying that without the decades of grime -- buildup from one Grey fox practicing his grudge by wiping every other bit of the picture, and cleaned off by another Grey fox practicing his good housekeeping -- there was a beaming replica of a young Nick Wilde.

Nick lingered on that kit. There he was: himself; his dad. He recalled all those stories of his “mother’s side of the family” with Grandpa Piberius… and wondered if was it as simple as a kithood of lies. For some reason… the fact that it was his dad and not his mom who came from the Savage side of things didn’t surprise Nick as much as he thought it would; as if he’d already known or figured it out but it “hadn’t reached the thinking part of his brain, yet”. He’d seen that photograph on Sunday, after all, even if he hadn’t studied it too closely and the grime obscured that part of it. In a daze of light head-rubbing, he recalled the Sunday prior in which he was thrown from a moving vehicle, falling into a dark grotto where his Night Howler hallucinations made even less sense than usual… like how he saw Gideon in his Dad’s tailoring clothes and what he now knew it meant…

“Yeah, that’s probably Dad, unless I was a time traveler as a kit,” Nick decided, “He must’ve taken Mom’s name when they were mated…”

“What color are his eyes, again?”

“You tell me.”

“I’d bet my tail they’s ‘Savage Green’.”

“Not how  _ I’d _ ever describe them, until now, but I’ve been told I ‘ _ almost _ have my Dad’s eyes’, depending on how the light hits them,” Nick said offhandedly, “I’d doubt that this is a coincidentally identical uncle, either.”

“Essy was right,” Gideon realized for the umpteenth time in his life, “it  _ was _ ‘Uncle Jacky’ that came with Ma and Pa from the Knottedwood!”

“Which would make that old photo I have of him and Ruth as ‘close siblings’, not ‘lovers’. I suppose I’m a  _ little _ relieved that he’s not some two-timing…” Nick paused, “At least  _ Mom’s _ not some mate-stealing…” he paused again, “Actually, I’m not sure if this is worse or not…”

“But why leave…? Was  _ Aunt _ Jackie a part of it?”

“Let’s ask them,” Nick said, picking up his stuff from the fair to head towards the door, “I was going to stop by the clinic because Madge wants a blood sample (for some reason), but hey, I hear my folks are in town tonight and it’d be rude not to see them, especially during the Tri-Burrow  _ Reunion _ .”

“But where would they  _ be _ ?” Gideon asked, checking that the keys in his van were, indeed, in his pocket.

“Where  _ else _ ?” Nick poised with a smirk.

Blue eyes blinked, and then he returned the smirk, “The only place left in Bunnyburrow with vacancy: family. They’re most prob’ly at my folks’ house.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking earlier,” the taller fox mused, “you’re as sly as they come.”

Gideon chuckled, “Shucks…”

* * *

Preds’ Corner was not the unoccupied ghost town of nights prior when little bunnies were safely inside their rented warrens; there were floodlights erected as if some major, midnight feat of road work was furiously underway. The fleet of moving and utility vans were parked in precise alignment for the crews to file out beneath the waning daylight only just diluting the night sky. The foxes rolled on by in the quiet bordering its distant din to slip into the residential farms, along the service road to the very end before it looped back, where the Grey House stood. It, too, was not unoccupied.

“Ayeup,” Gideon determined as they idled near the mailbox, “ _ Some _ one’s in there.”

“And if the empty houses along the way are any indication, then the rest of the cruise hasn’t come back, yet,” Nick pointed out, “No text message to pick them up from the train station?”

“Naw, there’s a bus doin’ that,” he replied and pulled up the driveway cleaving the evening-painted lawn, coming to a steady stop before the engine settled for them to climb out. “Hey Stretch… I been thinkin’ on all kinds of ways this could go but, no matter what, the signs are pointin’ to ‘Let Nick do the talking’.”

“Sensible,” Nick agreed upon their approach of the front door, sniffing at the residual scents of his parents, “Especially since your only interaction with Mom involves dishonesty, and you’ve never met Dad.”

Gideon grunted, “So… those two in there amount to ‘a lie’ and ‘a secret’… the only things foxes ain’t s’posed to do to each other… that about right?”

“Yeah… fox-wisdom isn’t going to help much here,” he admitted with a sigh and rubbed his temple, “If you don’t feel up to talking, that’s fine, just… have my back in there, yeah?”

The pastry chef clapped a mitt of a paw to said back, “Hey, what’s the worst that can happen?” Gideon said, “And if it  _ does _ happen, we’ll figure it out.”

“What else is family for,” Nick chuckled, paw gripping the handle to find it unlocked, “Alright, here we go.”

Boldly they strode in, unsure what to expect but prepared to face it head-on. As either had heard throughout their lives -- however far into the cheek the speaker’s tongue was lodged -- foxes that face their troubles head-on and with bold strides… are idiots. Idiocy and betrayal (which some of any fox community would not distinguish between) are widely believed to be the leading causes of death to foxes, to which the only ones immune are kits with parents present. Neither Nick nor Gideon were idiots, however, for they knew full well that a direct, bold approach is the best way to interrupt a fox’s schemes since it triggers either a desperate retaliation or escape; as they were either son or nephew of those they were confronting, who obviously made it a point to no longer run, the best course of action was, indeed, to boldly stride in, prepared to face head-on whatever was to come.

The kitchen lights were on, unlike the living room or hallway lights, and standing up from the kitchen table were a pair of foxes that neither Nick nor Gideon if they were being wholly honest with themselves, were all too familiar with. The stouter fox closed the front door as the taller walked past the threshold and into gravitational stillness. On the table sat the simple, short-brimmed hat with a grayish-white feather sticking out of the band; the one that Gideon recognized from earlier that day. Also on the table sat the empty box of “Really Good Baked Stuffs”, with some sparse crumbs and napkins around it. Finally, on the table sat the framed, cleaned photograph of the Savage family from the Knottedwood… in which smiled the unearthed “Uncle Jacky”.

Each Wilde remained quiet for several eternal seconds, the older’s eyes flicking back and forth between each of the younger tods; one, their own progeny with years to make up to for… the other, so similar to his own father (if shorter). Their claws either gently raked the wooden furniture or the back of a wrist, the silence broken only by minuscule throat clearings and preliminary gasps of speech, halted by muttered permission to “Go ahead”. 

Blue eyes audibly rolled. “Stretch, help me in the kitchen,” he suddenly instructed, “Aunt Jackie, would ya’ be so kind as to throw that box away, please? Uncle John, that picture’s plenty clean by now, so it can go back up on the wall over there,” he said while flicking a thumb over his shoulder, and braced a palm against the more athletic back of his cousin as he pushed things along. “Anyone here got allergies?” Gideon then asked.

“Allergies?” John repeated, though picking up the picture all the same.

“Peanuts, shellfish, that kinda thing.”

“No, nothing like that,” Jackie answered, using a napkin to sweep up the crumbs into the box to toss it away, “No more than the usual fox sensitivities to harsh pungency.” Additionally, she grabbed her hat and traveling coat (as well as her mate’s jacket) to hang them near the door.

“Good, that makes things easy for me,” Gideon said, “By the way, how’d you get in?”

“Spare key inside the cracked rock out front,” John and Nick simultaneously responded, to which the room quieted for an instant but not with the heavy awkwardness as before.

“Ruthie’s always been devout, so the significance of a key to her home inside a prominent Chronicler symbol, like a cracked stone, would be too proper to pass up,” John mused over his shoulder, hopping up onto the chair he dragged over to return the family photo to its proper place.

“And not that it needs mentioning, but there is an absence of build-up of dirt inside the crack, so it’s as frequented a hiding place as any,” Nick explained with a smile and an easy shrug, standing up in his retrieval of the large pot and saucepan that was asked of him, “I also saw Esther glance at it with self-admonishment the other day.”

John sighed wistfully, “Esther Grey… to think that babbling little kit is all grown up… saw her on TV at the Lionheart trial of course, even if they  _ did _ spell her name with an ‘a’ and not an ‘e’ but that’s not the first time it’s happened.” The older tod leaned on the back of the chair before teetering it, and with a swing of his tail and hips walked it back to the table.

Gideon watched excitedly. “Nick!” he quietly said as he pulled out a few packets of spaghetti noodles, “He did that thing you said he did!”

“John, don’t do that or you’ll break your neck,” Jackie berated, and was in the kitchen rolling up her sleeves to wash her paws, “Gideon, sweetie, spices and such are where?”

“Right up there, ‘Mrs. Barker’,” he teased, “and you can call me ‘Giddy’.”

“I’m not going to live that down, am I,” she sighed in good humor, reaching up to pull out salt, garlic, onions, turmeric, and black pepper. With the gathered assortment on the counter, she leaned towards the stouter fox (who inclined accordingly) to lick his cheek in familial affection, “I’m sorry for the deception earlier, Giddy, but truth be told, it doesn’t seem like either you or Travis bought a word of it,” she smirked, and he chuckled forgivingly.

“‘Mrs.  _ Barker _ ’?” John inquired, entering the kitchen to peer over at his shying mate only to be handed knives, forks, and napkins from his son, “By the way, is this meal for the whole family or just Nicky?”

“That is an  _ excellent _ question,” Nick concurred.

“Oh, it’s jus’ a  _ pseudo-name _ ,” Gideon initially responded to his uncle, “and this is for  _ ev’ry _ one. Goodness knows we’ll need it…”

“Pseudo _ nym _ , Giddy,” Jackie kindly corrected, “Nicky, be a dear and grab the olive oil from that top shelf, please? It’s a bit too much of a reach for me.”

“Go, go gadget arms!” the taller fox declared while retrieving the requested foodstuff.

“Aunt Jackie, you salt and oil the water for your pasta, too?” the baker said as he filled up the pot.

“There are other ways to fix pasta?” Jackie mused and went over to her mate at the kitchen table to set out some choice condiments and water glasses.

“Bangs,” Nick then whispered, leaning towards his cousin in a hushed tone while his parents were preoccupied, “You really saved my bacon back there. I had  _ loads  _ of things to say to them and responses to what  _ they _ would say, but my mind went  _ blank  _ as soon as I saw them. That usually doesn’t happen to me. How do you put up with it?”

Gideon quirked a brow (and subdued his grin). “I make food to distract from my lack of fancy linguistics,” he answered, “but now that the ice is broken, you should go talk to ‘em. I’ll take care things in here.”

Nick nodded. With a sweep of his arms he approached the older Wildes and stood between them, a paw to each of their shoulders in a half-sort-of-hug, “Hey guys, let’s give the master some space, his magic only works if we’re not watching.”

A momentary tension passed before Jackie looked over her shoulder. “I don’t mind helping,” she offered, but also implied confirmation that it was, indeed, time to talk.

“Y’all go ahead and sit down, relax; I’ve things well-handled,” Gideon assured with a smile as he began pouring the sauce to cook.

John set down a knife and patted his son’s back, smiling even as headlights pulled along the road outside the Greys’ fence, as visible from a temporary glare along the wall. “Well, that should be everyone, then,” he soberly said, walking around the kitchen table, leaning first to the patched window to see who approached, “No, only Esther, but she must be exhausted, what with that gait of hers.”

Nick grinned, “I should receive her, then. You two go over to that armchair near the couch and get comfy, I’ll need somewhere to put her when she comes in.”

“Oh, Nicky, that’s so sweet of you,” Jackie endeared. John didn’t say anything, only catching his breath and covering his grin with a paw. He readily led his beloved vixen over to the appointed seating arrangement, taking care to hoist her upon the chair’s arm while he took a seat, a paw resting around her waist. “John…” Jackie quietly queried, but was politely hushed when her mate touched his lips, and then arched his eyebrows towards the door.

“Giddy, I’m home…” Esther groaned as she opened said door, shambling in and looking quite weary, indeed, but the instant she saw Nick standing just inside with an arm extending, she heaved a dramatic sigh to lean forward and gracefully collapse into his welcoming embrace. “I didn’t think anything could be more draining than  _ yesterday _ , but then I ran the gauntlet of rabbit bureaucracy…” she relayed.

Nick cradled her under the shoulders and knees, turning on a heel to allow her briefcase to be dropped near the door as he closed it with a foot, “Worry not, for you are in the company of fellow foxes and all our energy-efficient ways; so, breathe deep the rich aroma of familial pasta and allow yourself to unwind,” he comforted.

“My hero,” she cooed, arms wrapping around his neck to share with a tender touch of the noses and lips, only letting go when he laid her across the couch, head propped upon a throw-pillow before her feet were set in his lap for some thorough rubbing. He smiled casually all the while as she melted. Esther then craned her neck and spotted the older foxes patiently sitting on the armchair, smiling as they exchanged wordless glances with the younger vixen. “Blue…” she asked of Nick, who grunted sweetly in response, “are you massaging my feet in front of your parents?”

“Maybe.”

Jackie inclined towards a grinning John, “You were right, that  _ was _ fun to watch,” she discreetly said, and then slid off the armchair to approach the soon standing, younger vixen, “Esther Grey… it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Aunt Jackie…” she said, and then looked at the soon adjacent older tod and directly into those “Savage Greens”. Her breath stuck as she caught his scent, eyes misting over some.

“The last time I saw you, Esther-”

“I was cradled to Ma’s breast and you were only a shadow of a memory…” she interrupted, “and yet… I still remember your smell. And those eyes… no matter how I look at them, they’re the same as Ma’s… which would make you Jack  _ Savage _ , wouldn’t it?” she said, voice laced with a patience that was a lifetime tested.

“Jack _ y _ Savage,” John amiably corrected, “The ‘-ee’ at the end is  _ very _ important in a name because it lifts the corners of your mouth in a grin when you say it. Nick _ y _ ,” he explained with an appropriate gesture and facial expression, “Ess _ y _ , Gidd _ y _ . Jack _ ie _ ,” John then said, smiling sadly as he put an arm around his mate’s shoulders and touched his own chest, “John.”

“Was that to cut down on the confusion?” Esther asked with arms crossed.

“I don’t deserve a name that brings a smile to others,” he confessed and sat heavily onto the couch, paws folded and head bowed, tail as limp as a sheet, “I’m a…  _ terrible  _ father, uncle, brother, and son… and the biggest idiot in the world.”

Jackie soon joined her mate and husband on the couch to rub his back. Esther wavered and looked over her shoulder at Nick.

“I imagine he’s got some explaining to do to quite a many foxes, myself included,” Nick said, and offered her a seat, himself sitting only when she accepted it. He put an arm around her shoulders as she leaned back into him and pulled up her knees.

John sat up and braced his knees in a sort of stretch, glancing first to Gideon, who had propped his elbows on the back of a chair with an ear still turned towards the kitchen. “That I do, Nickster,” he said and stood once more to unbutton his cuffs and roll them back, and as casually as he liked, tugged his tie to loosen his shirt and stand comfortably in front of his audience, tail once more erect. “I’ll start at the beginning…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference Brave, chapter 2, for the events of young Nicky’s Junior Ranger Scouts thing.
> 
> "Bacon", like jerky in this story, is used as a category for how fowl, reptile, or fish meat is prepared, rather than the type of meat it is (i.e. pig, which is not eaten in Zootopia).
> 
> “Just suck the fun right out of it, why don’t you…” Nick says this to Esther in Trustworthy, chapter 9. Like father, like son, ‘eh?
> 
> The phrase “hadn’t reached the thinking part of his brain, yet” refers to when Nick was chatting with Dawson back in Trustworthy, chapter 8. It is the first direct explanation in this story as to the cognitive stimulation of the Night Howler drug, which was further alluded to with Judy and Lanny and their “Dawsons”.
> 
> “the Sunday prior in which he was thrown from a moving vehicle, falling into a dark grotto where his Night Howler hallucinations made even less sense than usual… like how he saw Gideon in his Dad’s tailoring clothes.” This event transpired back in Trustworthy, chapter 13, and is part of the foreshadowing that “Jacky Savage” was, in fact, Ruth’s brother, Nick’s dad. Additionally, eye color was used to identify certain characters throughout the story: purple for Judy, green for Nick, blue for Gideon, etc. John and Jackie’s were obfuscated until recent chapters for this exact reason. Reference Loyal, chapter 5, for when Nick’s parents’ eye colors are finally revealed, along with the mention of a common practice (for this story, at least) that the name shared by two mates is decided by the mates themselves; this further sets up that the “Wilde” fox which took “Jacky Savage” was, in fact, Jackie herself.
> 
> As for “Jack Savage”… it was my understanding at the time that he was a fox in the early renditions of Zootopia, but I eventually learned that “Jack Savage” was a rabbit in later interpretations.
> 
> Like Nick said, John’s got a lot of explaining to do… next chapter. Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Grey Dawn" is a side-story I began several months, nearly a year before writing this chapter and its initial posting. The aim was to tell an old-timey story with old-timey speech and since it really started to grate on me after a while (and I just couldn't replicate the style long enough to constitute more than a scene-and-a-half, if that), I decided to stop it abruptly as you will soon read. Speaking of soon-to-be-reading, you are about to embark on one of my favorite arcs in Neverwere Moments, right up there with Judy's adventure in "The Burrow". Nick's parents are one of the primary catalysts for this story, along with Gideon and his role in the greater scheme of things, and after I figured out that John was, in fact, a farm-fox, he really sprung to life for me and practically wrote his own adventure. That said, enjoy!]

**_Grey Dawn_ **

The Greys began among other fox families in Knottedwood with Ruth Savage, daughter of Piberius Savage, a former ship’s captain. She worked in no manner of prestige or nobility but as a wet-nurse, a humble and necessary profession for the duties of the kits’ parents were numerous, and likewise necessary to keep the village strong.

She was sent out to fetch firewood one day, but cursed her brother’s name for slacking in his chore of chopping wood, and then asked forgiveness for uttering a curse. “Jacky Savage!” Ruth called at the empty yard, “You bring yourself about and chop this wood! That kit, he’ll amount to _nothing_ , if he’s lucky.” When her echo was all to answer, she turned to grab up a log and prepare it for cleaving.

Ruth was studious and chaste; she knew her Book & Hymns and extolled both through her living. Unlikewise, she knew the process of firewood but was not practiced in its making, and needed eight swings to split one log through. As it was early afternoon, the youngest kits would soon need their nursing and she was laden with their meal, so chopping was a difficulty. Half in the second log, Ruth caught another curse for her brother’s name in her throat and swallowed it down with repentance.

“Ma’am,” a stranger said in accent, “my daring be pardoned, but I have need.”

Trained in manners and composure befitting a vixen, Ruth’s steely nerve was not easily riled, but she turned to address the stranger and jumped from her fur, only just biting a yelp.

“My daring be pardoned…” the stranger said again, a fox of height and width to rival a wolf, covered in weathered tatters, shaggy fur, and a horse’s mane of dark, red fur hanging from his head.

“Are you injured, sir?” Ruth questioned, resolve returned to recognize his arm tucked, he barely able to hold his great size up.

“No, not I,” the stranger explained, “but I have need for service of body.”

“Sir!” Ruth exclaimed in indignation, “This house is _not_ of such services!”

“Please, ma’am,” the stranger begged. His height was still great even on his knees and extended his arm to reveal a kit hidden in the hollow of his palm, “The smell of milk is about your body, and I have a need for only some. I shall swear not to darken your house but this moment.”

“Heavens be,” Ruth gasped, taken by her nature and profession.

“She is too hungry to cry, and cannot eat the bird or berry,” the stranger cried, “I have no money or goods, but I can pay whatever cost so she lives.”

Ruth harbored no second thought. She reached into the immense paw and lifted the kit to her breast with well-practiced balance. Her blouse was open and she felt the nursing, a paw to the kit’s head kept it up as it whimpered around her flesh.

“Blessed, blessed!” the stranger sobbed, “You are heaven-sent, ma’am, I am forever in debt.”

“There is no debt in this house, sir, only service to one another, as through such service we are lifted up in His love,” Ruth said, carefully treading to the porch that she might sit and cradle. “I am Ruth Savage, sir; may I ask your name?”

“No name is mine for no family is mine, Ma’am Savage,” the stranger answered, rising to follow and sit heavy nearby, “I am called only ‘Goliath Walking Gray’, as I go in the twilight times.”

“Well, Mr. ‘Goliath Grey’, it is a pleasure to meet you and… oh, forgive me, I asked not for your daughter’s name when I asked for yours.”

“She has no name but that she is mine, Ma’am Savage, for her mother could not live to give it.”

“My deepest apologies, Mr. Grey…”

“She knows no more pain, Ma’am Savage, and can watch our daughter from Aslan’s paws.”

“Oh! You are as well a Chronicler, Mr. Grey?” Ruth asked in hope.

“I tell His stories and sing His songs all of these days,” Mr. Grey said in a smile, “I know it was He who led me to you, Ma’am Savage.”

“Please, Mr. Grey,” Ruth said with a reddening ear and a modest smile, practicing the greatest care to move the hungry kit from one breast to the other, “you may call me ‘Ruth’, for I am not yet a ‘madam’.”

“My daring be pardoned,” Mr. Grey said, “As you deem it so, I shall know you as ‘Ruth’.”

“This young kit cannot go into life without a name,” Ruth said with a clearing of her throat, for she was a proper and well-mannered vixen, “The duty is on you to give her that name, Mr. Grey.”

“I cannot, as I have not my own name to give,” Mr. Grey lamented, “My daring be pardoned, Ruth, can I beg another debt... no, I cannot beg that… can I beg another _service_ , one of the heart, that my kit be known by a name of yours?”

“I… I do not know if I may…” Ruth admitted, lifting her apron over her shoulder to lay the kit upon it, and patting her back to belch.

“It is understood, Ruth,” Mr. Grey relented, “So, shall service of body be paid with service of body.” He stood and shrugged from his broad shoulders the tattered vest.

“Mr. Grey!” Ruth exclaimed in embarrassment but ceased when he turned to the woodpile. He grabbed up the hatchet in one paw, and with the other set a log in place. In a swing both swift and single, the log cleft in twain, and he reached for another to replace it. As long it took Ruth to swing eight times and chop one log, Mr. Grey chopped a dozen. “Mr. Grey… Goliath!” Ruth called over the din, to which he turned and lifted a bang from his eye, “I shall take young… Esther inside, so she might sleep.”

“I am forever of service, Ruth,” Goliath said. A smile spread across his muzzle, and so did a smile spread across hers.

Ruth, a studious and chaste vixen, spoke with the housemother about young Esther, and though she was scolded for consorting with and hiring a strange fox, she was lauded for practicing mercy unto the kit. A spare bed was quickly found and young Esther lay into its sheets. In custom, Ruth sang a hymnal lullaby for the young kit, garnering attention from some other kits of the house, for her voice was the prettiest of the nurses’.

“Kits, this is Esther Grey,” Ruth introduced, “she is our newest. Let us be good to her that she, in turn, be good.”

“Sister Ruth, Sister Ruth!” kits called from the window, “A wolf is chopping our wood!”

“Hush now; Mr. Grey is a fox, not a wolf,” Ruth reprimanded, “He is Esther’s father and will receive proper respect, for he is of service to this house and a good soul.”

“Where did he come from, Sister Ruth?” kits asked.

“I do not know,” Ruth admitted, and gathered them about from the window, “but he follows Aslan, and the housemother will interview him at the soonest moment.”

“I daresay it’s apt time for a story, isn’t it?” Jacky said when he swung down from the rafters, his favored hiding spot. Cheers rose from the kits, for Jacky told the best stories.

“Jacky Savage!” Ruth exclaimed, “You hide all morning and shirk your chores, but I must admit I was surprised you skipped lunch.”

“Sister dearest,” Jacky chimed, leaning over the kits to lick her cheek in typical sibling greeting, “you slander me in the worst. Did I not send you a giant to chop wood so much swifter than I ever dreamt? And I can see he soundly arrived while I informed our father of his most fortunate arrival.” It was a better day than the kits could hope, to hear Ruth’s singing, Jacky’s telling, and their combined wits-crossing. “Now, let us have a seat,” Jacky began, and with a smile to Ruth, “perhaps a bite of lunch, and you shall know how ‘Goliath Walking Grey’ came to the Knottedwood.

“Our dear Goliath, whom I may call as such since I _am_ his senior by nearly a season, comes from far, _far_ to the south. South is where you have the sunrise on your left and the sunset on your right, and then walk until you must swim, and then swim until you walk on land again. Down there, the foxes are _so_ big, that wolves must look _up_ to them in address. Yes, it’s true,” Jacky said to the kits’ gasps, “It’s because they live not with trees like us foxes here in the north, but out in the open plains. Not a single leaf or branch above, only tall grass beyond what the eye can see!”

“But Jacky!” kits asked, “Without the leaves and branches, would not a fox go sunblind?”

“Ah ha, cleverly caught,” Jacky commended, and put his paws over his eyes and made to look around as though blinded, but then peeked through his fingers; the kits giggled and laughed, “A large fox of the south grows long, shaggy fur over their eyes to protect from the sun, and have long, shaggy limbs to stride through the grass as swift as any deer.” He pantomimed up on his tiptoes with graceful steps. “But! A fox he still is, for the foxes from the south are as clever as they come, and indeed, he is the cleverest fox from the south that ever there was.

“Goliath and his foxkin lived under the rule of big, wooly _sheep_ ,” Jacky explained, and he pulled his shirt up and bundled it around his head, to mimic the wreath of wool and crown of horns well-known by the kits; they whimpered at his squinted eyes and bleated, “But _these_ sheep had long, wooly necks! They were so tall that even Goliath had to fall back so he could look at up them,” and so he fell back to show how he might do it, much to the kits’ amazement. Jacky sprung back to his feet in a nimble second, and stretched his arms wide, “It was not enough to be so tall, no it wasn’t! They lived on mountains, which are big piles of stones _so_ big that they reach into the very sky!”

Ruth, though studious and chaste and well-mannered, listened to her brother’s story raptly, for he did tell the very best stories, and forgotten all about his request for lunch.

With one more nimble second, Jacky hoisted himself up into the rafters, “This was so they could look down on Goliath and his foxkin, and _all_ their subjects. Goliath knew, for he is the cleverest fox of the south, that even with their long necks and high mountains, they could not see all, as they wanted all to believe. He devised a cunning plan to escape their rule-”

“Just like Captain Savage?” kits asked in excitement.

“Just like Captain Savage, except without ship or crew. No, Goliath would need all his cleverness to run away with his foxkin,” Jacky told, hopping from the rafters, “In the dead of night, during a festival in the palace of the long-necked sheep, when the guards were bored and sleepy and angry that _they_ could not join in the merrymaking, Goliath-”

* * *

_“Dad,” Nick interrupted, “are you telling a story about how you told a story?”_

_“I wanna hear about how Pa outfoxed all them llamas, though!” Gideon pouted._

_“It actually wasn’t a festival,” Esther corrected._

_“It wasn’t?” John deflated._

_“Pa explained it when I asked him about my birth mother.”_

_“When was this?” Gideon asked._

_“It was after he put her picture up on the ofrenda,” Esther said._

_“Oh, right… I wasn’t too keen on listening back then, was I?” Gideon realized._

_“I’ll tell you about it later, Giddy.”_

_“I move that it is a conversation for another time,” Nick motioned._

_“Seconded; we should let Goliath tell it when he’s ready,” Jackie concurred._

_“Is Goliath’s middle name really ‘Walking’?” Nick asked._

_“It’s his favorite joke, so jus’ laugh when says why he doesn’t drive too much,” Gideon said._

_“That’s also not really how Ma and Pa first met, according to them,” Esther informed._

_“True, I did exaggerate a bit… their composure, for example. Let’s skip forward,” John continued._

_“And feel free to drop the old-timey narration,” she suggested._

_“Just suck the fun right out of it, why don’t you…” John huffed._

* * *

Jacky was in his moping spot, high up in the trees just outside the village where no one was likely to find him, much less reach him, but still within sight and earshot of the nearest buildings.

“Jacky Savage!” Ruth called from far below, invoking an eye roll from her brother. She always could find him… not _reach_ him, granted, at least with her arms, “You come down here _right now_!” She was also the only fox in the Knottedwood that could say his name without smiling.

His once dangling tail was pulled out of sight.

“I know you’re up there!”

He leaned over to show his face and to yell back, “Is Corbin still _ordained_ as Goliath’s guide through the Knot?”

“Papa chose Cor _y_ because he’s responsible and _mature_ ,” Ruth argued, arms crossed resolutely.

“It’s Cor _bin_ ,” Jacky muttered, “That tail-dragger couldn’t make another fox smile if he pinned their cheeks to their ears…” and then continued aloud, “ _I’m_ an adult, I’ll have you know, and I’ve already proven I can get through the Knot _blindfolded_!”

“If you kept up with your studies, maybe you wouldn’t be making so many _excuses_ ,” she accused.

Jacky sprung from his high bough to tumble and slide down to ground level with unnerving grace, as though every branch and twig were exactly where he needed them to be. There was no fox in the village that could traverse “The Knot” of the Knottedwood better than he, for as much as it kept the rest of the world outside… it kept its foxes in, and only the most skilled Scouts dare enter it. As casually as he liked, the tod in his early prime straightened the frequently-mended tunic tucked into his frequently-mended trousers (with each stitch showing marked improvement in his sewing and patchwork) after alighting onto the mossy ground in front of his sister. Since it was a day that the housemother did not require her special talents in dealing with kits (of all ages), Ruth donned a more casual blouse, skirt, and jumper (with notably less mending).

“What _‘studies’_ ?” he answered with well-masked disdain, “Those books that quell my curiosity by no means, _nay_ , inflame it _further_ ? I’ve read them cover-to-cover, Ruthie, and I could do so _backward_ … the same with the Knot. Corbin’s title as ‘eldest son’ is the _only_ reason Papa’s letting him go to Zootopia…” Jacky said, and his voice rising high with wonder at the name. “I sneak out to see it from afar every night, Ruthie… that beautiful, beckoning glow just beneath the horizon…”

The vixen sighed and shook her head, “Jacky, it’s more than knowing _what_ is beyond our tree line, it’s also being trained to _handle_ it-”

“I got through the Knot when I was _eight_ ; on my own, mind you,” he began to rave, arms up and pacing, tail whipping behind him, “ _I_ was the one that sat and waited on the farthest roots and shadows -- farther than any of the Scouts -- for someone from the outside world to see us… _I_ got that photographer to take a picture of our family… and _I_ convinced them to return with a copy… It was _me_ that found Goliath on the edge of the Wood… half-starved and with a kit, who surely would have died, if not for me.”

“You got Goliath to do your chores while _I_ fed that sweet kit,” Ruth countered, “ _Hardly_ altruistic.”

“And the honey glow burns through your fur, dear sister,” Jacky accused in good humor, “So perhaps _you_ should be honest with your envy of Guinevere, who was also _ordained_ by Papa, only because she is his eldest daughter.”

Ruth’s composure as a “proper vixen” wavered while she twiddled her fingers, softly muttering to pin back her hot ears, doubtful eyes glimpsing the knowing smile of her brother.

“Goliath asked _you_ to name Esther, did he not?”

“He _did…_ ”

“And no one can make her laugh and smile quite like _you_ can, right?”

“Yes…” she’d concede, “but Papa said…!”

“Both Corbin and Guinevere have their own families and livelihoods to look after, do they not? As for our two next older sisters, well, Vanessa is _with_ kit this very moment and the apiaries would fall into chaos if not for Charmagne,” Jacky continued, “But _we_ are still unmated, and so, not tied to the Wood.”

Ruth blinked rapidly before timidly speaking, “‘We’…?”

The tod rubbed his chin as his eyes brightened, “Yes… _‘we’_! Neither Corbin nor Guinevere… but Jacky and Ruthie. Who better to guide Goliath and Esther to their new lives in the free city of Zootopia? And we won’t stay long… only until the newborn is weaned and he established with the foxes that are surely already there.”

“It’s dangerous outside the Wood, though, and yes, we are adults but _barely_ …”

“Ruthie,” Jacky negotiated, sweeping around to embrace her shoulders in one arm, the other gesticulating cordially before pushing back the shaggier, unkempt fur atop his head, “Am I not the best fighter in Knottedwood? Has not my challenge remained undefeated by every fox here, _including_ both Papa and Corbin?”

“Yes, your martial and athletic prowess beguiles even our staunchest trainers, Jacky, and your detection of others is unparalleled… except when Mama looked you square in the eye as she plucked a hair from your head,” his sister coyly reminded.

“…Mama doesn’t count. Every fox knows this.”

“And the same would happen with any fox that could stand you.”

“Ruthie…” he playfully sighed, “We’d not be leaving the Knottedwood to _court…_ not _I_ , in any case,” he punctuated with a smirk.

Her honey glow blazed the more but she did not pull away, “If I _should_ join in this foolhardy expedition you are so keen to endeavor… which would ultimately be for Esther’s benefit,” Ruth resolved, “it would not… _could_ not result in any manner of… mateship with Goliath. By his own admission, foxes of the south are the same as we of the north in that we mate for life.”

“I tease and banter, dear sister,” Jacky assured, and licked her cheek in familial affection, “However, the fact remains that Goliath is here a week and already suffers from the affliction, if his headaches and nosebleeds are any indications of the Wood’s effect on outsiders, so he cannot much longer stay. And while Esther could certainly be nursed and raised as a kit of the Knot, I doubt sincerely that Goliath’s intention was to flee with his daughter only to abandon her,” he said, and then paused before implying, “You and I both know that the elders will vehemently _deliberate_ as he degrades.”

The vixen was long silent. “And I don’t suppose you are lucky enough to have the glasses which might protect our eyes from sunblindness?” she finally, stoically asked, and not bothering to hide her own degree of implication.

“I happen to have a pair or two, yes, for quite a time, in fact,” he offhandedly answered, unlooping his arm from her shoulders to pace, “It was a long-standing dream of mine to go on an adventure with my most trusted friend, you know… to follow in the pawprints of our father… to finally discover what happened to _his_ father… It will remain a dream if I am tied to this place, though…”

“‘This place’ keeps up safe, Jacky. That world out there? It wants nothing to do with foxes and never has,” Ruth reminded, “It might be Goliath and Esther who are the first foxes of wherever we can find for them to live together and he has already resolved to build a house with his own paws, if need be, somewhere safe and secluded,” and then sighed, “You’ve become thick-as-thieves in his short visit, so… maybe he can help dissuade you from that wild fantasy of chasing after our grandfather’s ghost.”

Jacky excitedly spun about to hold his sister’s paws, “You’ll join me, then?”

“By Aslan’s will, Jacky Savage, I’ll ensure that you, Goliath, and Esther get to where you need to be when you need to be there…” she conceded while gripping his paws securely, “and then _we_ return home after it’s all done. Agreed?”

He cradled her cheeks and kissed her forehead, “You shan’t regret this, Ruthie, I promise, but come, there is still much to prepare for!” Jacky declared, grasping her paw and whisking around back to the village.

* * *

Voices.

Happy voices.

Tired voices.

Two of them. One decidedly deeper than the other.

The five foxes inside the house of Grey all perked their ears as the air tightened like steel cables. John looked understandably concerned, nostrils flaring and chest rising, and not until Jackie touched his wringing paws did he finally release his tension.

Nick looked at Esther and she to him, so she sprung to her feet and approached the door.

Nick then looked at Gideon and he to him, but he was already on his way back to the kitchen, for dinner was just about ready.

The Wildes all looked to each other and affirmed the necessity of a sticking place to which their courage must be screwed, lest _they_ be. Nick wondered if he should join Esther with greeting them at the door as he did her. Jackie wondered if she should perhaps get more chairs to accommodate the extra places they set at the table. John wondered if Goliath would swing him around by the tail and launch him into orbit. As a family, they decided it best to casually remain out of immediate sight and in the living room, even if there was no real dividing wall between them and the kitchen or entryway, save for the soon-to-be-opened door.

“Smell that? Giddy must be making spaghetti,” Ruth jovially said from just outside said door, “And he’s using that four-cheese sauce I like!”

“I smell _some_ thing…” the other voice calmly boomed, “Other foxes?”

“Friends of his or Essy’s, no doubt,” she amiably dismissed while waltzing in through the door opened by her daughter and into the encompassing cloud of aroma cooked by her son, “Oh, thank you, Essy,” she endeared, leaning up to exchange a lick on the offered cheek. She had a tote bag hooked on one arm and two on the other, all three she set down to straighten a simple, modest, short-sleeved dress of subdued yet vibrant yellows and oranges. Despite earlier assumptions, Ruth was only short for a vixen when compared to her mate and kits, or her physique against the iconic sleekness of other foxes. Hers was a healthy fullness that accentuated the motherly plump of her hips as well as her cheeks, the image of a vixen whose life was dedicated to her farm and home.

“Hi Ma, welcome back,” Esther chimed, and opened the door a bit further to smile up at the fox whose size the Grey house was evidently measured for, to whom she raised up onto her toes for an exchanged lick on her other cheek, “Hi Pa. Glad to see the house isn’t burnt to the ground?”

In lumbered Goliath after standing to his full height once more. “Well, we _are_ back a day early, _zorrita_ ,” he pointed out, and though the language was still fresh on his tongue, its accent was tempered in the years spent away from his homeland, “Who knows what might’ve happened tomorrow?” While he was certainly not the tallest mammal in the city or even in their group of friends, he had a bearing about him which felt as though he towered, and stranger still with long limbs of deer-like grace, the torso of a wolf built from a lifetime of carpentry and other such labor, and the sharp, keen face of a fox hidden by perpetually shaggy bangs draping below his jaw; as well as those soft, blue eyes. As easily as he liked, he set the three suitcases he was carrying down near the tote bags and undid the second button of his grotesquely vivacious luau shirt.

“Hi Ma, Pa!” Giddy called from the kitchen, soon enough leaning over to earn a very light lick on the cheek that barely brushed his fur, an action that seemed more habitually conscientious than standoffish. “You two look like you had loads of fun, huh?”

“It was a _dream_ ,” Ruth recounted as she spared a girlish swoon before standing resolutely once more, “We’re glad to be back, though. What’s happening down in town, the entire place is bright as day?”

“Well,” Esther carefully explained, “that is a long and involved story, but first, we’ll be having some guests to introduce.”

“Oh, these are perhaps the friends of yours I smelled on the doorstep?” Goliath inferred, his voice slightly tinged with some manner of suspicion.

“Essy, I’m not ready to entertain company, yet! Aslan’s mane, we _just_ got back,” she huffed good-naturedly while fussing with the fur around her cheeks and neck on her way back to the door, “Wherever they are, keep them occupied while we put these bags away, at the _very_ least.”

“Are they around?” Goliath asked his kits.

“Yeah, up until your shirt scared ‘em off,” Gideon chuckled while pouring the sauce onto the salted and buttered spaghetti noodles, complete with the balls of chicken meat marinating in it. He and his sister watched as the dryly laughing father of theirs disappeared with their minimally fretting mother into the hallway.

When the master bedroom door closed, Essy so closed the front door and about-faced to the Wildes. “It was probably a good idea to let them get in, relax a little from their traveling and all that,” she cordially implied, “and with Ma expecting guests, that should give you three a few minutes to prepare yourselves mentally,” and then turned on a heel to follow the older Greys, “I think I’ll take a page from their book and go change into something more comfortable myself.” And so, the second bedroom door opened and closed.

Gideon glanced down the hallway a moment before he walked over to a storage closet to pull out some extra chairs, sparing a glance to the extended part of his family pensively sitting on the living room couch.

“Esther certainly has a lot on her mind, hasn’t she,” John observed to Nick.

“Well, it’s been a busy day for her,” Nick concurred, “but I’m not at liberty to explain _why_.”

“Confidential? Private?” Jackie joined in.

“ _‘Eh?_ ” Nick groaned and shrugged in answer.

“I’m thinking a little bit of _both_ , what with _your_ facial expression and how _she_ looked at Goliath rather thoughtfully,” John reasoned, “I daresay she’s learned a _few_ things today, in fact.”

“Speaking of, Goliath’s got a chip on his shoulder about something,” Jackie added, “I doubt he gets away from the house for too long; maybe about whatever’s happening in town?”

“Did you notice the _new_ luau shirt of his but Ruth’s comfortable, well-worn dress?” Nick pointed out.

“She had something new on underneath,” Jackie explained, “Comfy unmentionables no _not_ induce such a walk as hers.”

“Probably a private gift, either from him and she’s begrudged to wear it or _not_ from him and she enjoys it very much,” Nick reckoned.

“Obviously the former,” John concluded, “You don’t otherwise get a spring in your step at that age when one’s mate implies the changing of clothes.”

“When y’all are ready,” Gideon said before Nick could respond with whatever his leer implied (which seemed to tickle both John and Jackie in a strictly parental fashion), “Since you’re the guests and fam’ly, you get first dibs on where ya’ sit.”

“Oh, are there Grey house rules about family seating?” Nick asked.

“There are _now_ ,” Gideon replied with a grin, “What with fam’ly dropping in out of the blue, and all.”

“We’ll sit with our backs to the hallway,” John suggested.

“That way they’ll have to come around to the table before they react to us at all,” Jackie agreed.

“Why’re _you_ nervous, Aunt Jackie? It’s Uncle John that up and disappeared for three decades.”

“Remember when I was in Bunnyburrow twenty years ago, Giddy?” the vixen said, sighing with self-admonishment, “I actually met with Ruth and she, like you, didn’t know who I was… or that I was gathering information as to her demeanor towards John at the time.”

“Oh… I’m guessing it weren’t the best,” Gideon said.

“ _And_ I’m certain she’ll recognize me as soon as she sees me. So… your uncle and I are in the same boat, as it were.”

“So… before my folks get back in and make all this serious again…” Gideon eagerly began and then turned to his cousin with fists balled under his cheeks, “Stretch, we come from a secret village of psychic-ninja-foxes!”

“Okay, level with us, Dad,” Nick said, turning to the older tod, “ _Are_ we psychic-ninja-foxes?”

“Yes,” John _immediately_ answered, much to Gideon’s glee.

“ _No_ ,” Jackie corrected, and spoke directly to her son, “Your father and such foxes were born, nursed, and raised in a forest with microscopic pieces of iron embedded throughout, thus heightening their natural magnetic sense. It made them more perceptive to certain spectrums which they honed with mental and physical exercise, the same as what red foxes have done since time immemorial… a tradition in escaping death, if you will.”

“Such senses of mine have since dulled, which also allowed me to live in the city, what with all of its radio waves and microwaves and WiFi waves… We looked it all up when your mother didn’t believe me,” John smugly recounted as he took (and leaned back in) his seat, “According to some old geological records, there’s an _enormous_ deposit of iron ore beneath the Knottedwood all tangled up in its root system, which then oxidized it into magnetite over the centuries. My father was not the fox to discover it, though,” he revealed to the shocked expressions of the younger tods, “It’s true. By the time he arrived, a clan of foxes had been there for generations.”

Nick snapped his fingers. “That reminds me of those gold-leaf trees down in Outback Island,” he remembered, “Their roots dug into veins of gold ore and it started showing in their leaves. Not enough to be worth anything, except for an idea of where some gold might be found; emphasis on ‘might be’,” he said forlornly, as though from direct experience.

“Exactly. It’s also not uncommon to find fox clans living in naturally magnetic areas that are otherwise inaccessible,” Jackie tacked on as she sat properly in her own chair, “I heard this one legend about such a clan living in a cavern that was, in fact, a mind-bogglingly _huge_ geode with its own magnetic field.”

Gideon was quite plainly beside himself with wonder.

“So… why not tell _me_ any of this?” Nick asked, arms crossed.

“Nicky… do you remember the first time we told you about your Grandfather Piberius and your middle name?” Jackie soberly answered, “You came home in _tears_ when you heard about what the other children had to say about him.”

“Imagine if you brought up being a ‘psychic-ninja-fox’,” John pointed out.

“And I wasn’t too receptive as a teenager, either…” Nick mentioned and then flicked his ears down the hallway, “Hey… go ahead and save me a seat…”

“What’s wrong, Nickster?” John asked.

“Not sure, Esther sounds distressed all of a sudden,” he calmly stated, “Which I’m fairly certain she can handle on her own _but_ I’m going to go check, just in case she needs help.”

“Yeah- _huh_ , I’m sure that’s all of why you’re headin’ to her room,” Gideon insinuated, “She gonna throw something at you and it’ll hurt, but maybe she won’t because you’re sweet on her.”

Nick scoffed and waved his paw dismissively at the light laughter which followed, even if he added a few half-hearted chuckles to the mix. He strode casually down the hallway and out of sight, catching the light under Esther’s door to lean his head in and listen to her frustrated muttering. He glanced first to the not-too-far-off door of the older Greys’ bedroom and the shadow which passed under _it_ before raising a loose fist to quickly and quietly knock. “Hey Cherries, are you-?” he began; stopping only because the door cracked opened and out popped the snout of… Ruth.

“Oh, Blue,” Esther answered from her bed, wearing what looked to be the finishing touches of a more casual ensemble that stopped half-way on account of whatever worrying upon her mind formed the clearly distraught expression on her face (which quickly normalized), “Umm… Ma, this is Nick Wilde, my boyfriend. Nick… this is Ma.”

Ruth was not responsive at first but neither was Nick, except for her decreasing motherly resolve from whatever comforting she provided prior to his intrusion, and his tight-lipped frown that then split into an apologetic grin. “My goodness, how absolutely _rude_ of me,” he began and politely averted his gaze while trying to close the door, “It is a _pleasure_ to meet you, of course, but I just came by to let everyone know that dinner is, well, _ready_.”

Ruth stepped forward, her green eyes locked on his even if hers were substantially wetter and only getting worse. Trembling paws rose to cradle and redirect his stunned expression towards her; nostrils flared at his scent to confirm what she, perhaps, already saw in those “Savage Greens”. It was as though a meteor fell from the sky when Ruth dropped to her knees to wail and weep.

“What did you do?” Esther cried out, jumping from her bed to repay comfort to her mother.

“Nothing!” Nick pleaded, wheeling backward as he helplessly watched the maternal vixen bury her face into her own paws, trying though she might to keep open the eyes from which tears needed constant wiping from. A sudden presence loomed behind Nick when he wheeled right into the not-yet-fully buttoned torso of Goliath, each of whose necks were respectively craned to address one another. Their eyes then locked in what could only be described as instantaneous and mutual recognizing, and as silver flashed in the larger fox’s eyes Nick bounced off him to once again wheel about with his paws raised, placating so that he might continue pleading his case, “I _swear_ , I didn’t do anything!”

“Nicky-?” John inquired as he, Jackie, and Gideon peered down the hallway.

“Nothing, I did _nothing_!” Nick repeated, arms thrown out, “I’m innocent!”

“Jacky…?” choked a weak voice that stayed everything, and up stood Ruth to look upon her brother in disbelief and prayer. Her tears had paused when their Savage Greens locked and the maelstrom of emotions that swirled between them both. Securely rooted in place as he was, John could only watch as his sister approached him, her already drenched cheeks were soon mimicked by the trickle down his own.

“Heh…” he lightly coughed out the corner of his mouth when he found the courage to step forward and into arm’s reach (as aided by his mate and nephew), “Hi Ruthie,” he smiled, rubbing the back of his paw at her trembling chin, “You… umm… I…” and hoarsely cleared his throat as whatever assault he might’ve expected did not occur, “You’re… not mad…?”

Ruth was long silent (aside from her lessened sniffling). “‘Mad’?” she quietly repeated to shake the house’s walls and foundation, “ _‘Mad’_ ? No, I’m not ‘mad’… I’m _furious!_ ” came the dreaded ‘mom-voice’ and foot-stamp to send John (and everyone else, with perhaps the exception of Jackie) reeling, “But I’m also _happy…_ I’m allowed to be both!” Ruth then lunged forward and grabbed her brother around the torso, thusly knocking the wind from his lungs as she buried her still damp face into his neck.

John held his sister as tight as he could, letting his own tears fall onto her fur. With whatever courage remained in him, he glanced up at Goliath and his soft, blue, dry eyes.

“So,” Goliath casually thundered as he finished buttoning his shirt, “I hear that dinner’s ready?”

“Gettin’ cold, more likely than not,” Gideon pointed out as he sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his arm, “Also grabbed some extra chairs so we all can have a nice sit down and put everything out on the table.”

“Yeah, we’ve got a long dinner ahead of us,” Nick agreed as he regained his countenance.

“Oh, this is going well into dessert,” Esther said.

“ _And_ tea,” Jackie concluded.

* * *

At the time, Preds’ Corner was only a collection of buildings with a single painted sign to designate it as such (since “The Brambles” was what the “fancy towns-prey” called it). Officially, there was a single building set up by Bunnyburrow to establish a place for the safekeeping of records and other such valuables, even if it was colloquially considered a way to “keep an eye on” the locals (or more accurately, the families established there: the Mallupes, the Catmulls, and the Blackfoots, among others). Included was also a general store (using the broadest definitions of “general” and “store”) and the “healing house” (which was actually an assortment of tents that also acted as a place of worship on the Sabbath and other holy days).

Jacky and Ruth Savage arrived along with Goliath and Esther Grey, the former pair of foxes still donning their protective eyewear of tinted glass affixed into light, metal frames that rested on their ears and snout. Goliath knew that they were called “sunglasses”, something used back in his home country of Reino del Sol and a tidbit of information that Jacky was pleased to know; in the _very_ likely event of losing his current pair, he could always acquire new ones without yet returning home. It was over a week’s travel on foot from the Knottedwood to arrive at an open field and a solitary, dilapidated shack nestled into the tall grass. There was still quite a distance from the other house that they could see, which from so far away looked more like a smoking stump on a hill.

“It’s perfect,” Goliath said, his blue eyes studying that shack after setting down the heavy pack he lugged.

“It’s the lean-to that time forgot,” Jacky commented.

“I’ve done more with less,” the large fox boasted, “and what with the tools your father gifted me, I’ll make a house out of it in no time. This place actually reminds me of the valley back home…” Goliath dreamily remembered, and strode through the grass to run his paw along the tops of it, “It’s the perfect place to raise Esther. All that’s needed are the seeds from the wolf apple and we can live a life of freedom in peace.”

“A duty resting squarely on my shoulders,” the smaller tod avowed, said shoulders squaring, “High and low, I’ll not stop searching until I can bring that wolf apple to you and your daughter.”

“I am forever of service, Jacky,” Goliath gratefully responded, his mitt of a paw clapping his fellow tod on the back, “but you have already saved me and my beloved daughter; you both have,” he said, and stooped to accept the young, sleeping kit from the sling which Ruth wore to cradle her against him, smiling as she stirred in his grasp, “I could not ask for anything more.”

Ruth beamed as she set down her smaller pack and then herself near it, “Unfortunately, Goliath, that promise was made by Jacky Savage, whose mind and heart are immovable once decided.”

“Yes, I’m afraid there’s no backing out of this now, Golly,” Jacky assured, setting down his Scout’s pack and stretching his arms, “On my word, you’ll have your own orchard of wolf apples even if it takes me a hundred years.”

Goliath laughed, “Please do not call me ‘Golly’, though I know your heart is in the right place. And so be it, I’ll look forward to my ‘own orchard’ even if they _are_ for my great-grandkits.” He then looked across the fields and wondered aloud, “You have mentioned it on our way over, Ruth, but do you imagine that there _is_ a community of fu-?”

“Goliath!” both Savage foxes interrupted with notable concern, causing an immediate clamping shut of the large fox, whose blanched face and pinned ears then wobbled about in determined self-correction.

“A community of… _foxes_ ,” he carefully enunciated, “living around here?”

“We will need to work on your linguistics some more, I think,” Ruth breathed.

“Your command of the language is commendable, there’s no doubt of that, but that quirk of yours will stir up quite a lot of trouble, my friend,” Jacky added, biting back a snicker, “It’s a good thing Papa has such a keen sense of humor otherwise he’d have never given you that ‘ _bucks’_ of tools.”

“Poor Papa barely held himself up after you said that Jacky and I were ‘great _foxes_ ’,” Ruth warily recalled, “Mama would have certainly clubbed him with his own cane if he didn’t stop laughing…”

“She only hit him once, and it was a… a swift swatting, if anything,” her brother recalled.

“I cannot deny that it is a disguised blessing that my tongue slipped,” Goliath bashfully admitted, “and that your older siblings decided it better that _you_ guide me, instead of them. I feel I can trust you more.”

“And you can trust us to acquaint you with the fox community here, even if you are its founding member,” Jacky promptly assured, “We’ll set up here tonight and get started in the morning. Give it a day, maybe two, but I’ll find the clues we need to liberate a few wolf apples from your homeland.”

After a week had passed, Goliath acquired the bare materials needed to fortify and improve the shack to… a structure that had four walls and a roof, at least. “Still plenty of improvement,” he’d assert, and with the line of credit that Jacky’s silver tongue afforded him down at the general store, courtesy of Katica Blackfoot, the Grey house was “already built, it just needs some time to grow”. Ruth acquainted herself with Gunsten Catmull, the best medical opinion of Preds’ Corner (and a learned Chronicler), and for his expertise and supplies for Esther’s care, she aided him in what she knew for treating of the ill. As for Jacky…

Jacky left before dawn and returned after dusk each day, venturing into Bunnyburrow and not resting until he hit every dead end he could; no one knew what a “wolf apple” was or could be (aside from an apple grown by a wolf). It didn’t help that Edward Mallupe, who was himself an old and worldly wolf, was quite perturbed that a family of foxes (or, really, _anyone_ ) moved in on “his land”. It didn’t help that most of the residents in Bunnyburrow asserted the business end of a broom, some heavy thrown object, or (rarely) a shotgun at Jacky if he “wandered into” their place of business. Aside from a photograph that he acquired of himself and Ruth (since Goliath was astoundingly camera shy), all Jacky had to keep his spirits up were the nights spent on the hill outside the house where he could see the aurora of Zootopia, brighter and more colorful than was ever visible from the Knottedwood. His sister hardly had to look to find him those nights.

“Zootopia…” he told a newly and adjacent seated Ruth, “the answers I’m looking for are _there_ … I can _feel_ it…” His soul was heavy and forlorn, knees curled up to his chin as he gazed across the tops of his folded arms, tail tucked around his ankles. Jacky knew what his sister would say and maybe she was right… she often was…

“It really takes one’s breath away, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“I can see why you risked the Wood’s edge every night.”

“Despite how far we’ve traveled, it’s still so much farther away… too far…” he resigned.

“You should go there, Jacky, hop onto that train and ride it until the tracks end,” Ruth offhandedly resolved and then looked to her aghast brother with as bright and kind a smile as she had it in her to give, “But in all your slyness, you best find a way to send me a letter. There’s that ‘post box’ down at the record-keeper, which I’ll check every morn and eve. You know where we are… and you’d best come back, too.”

And that’s just what he did. Jacky traveled light, only a simple pouch, the picture of he and his sister, his sunglasses, a towel, a notebook and pencil, and some food for the trip. Anything else could be acquired as needed. The sunrise train would get him to the city and whatever minor headaches that he experienced in Bunnyburrow (oddly enough, wherever there was a harsh humming or buzzing noise…) could be handled by either his protective eyewear or clever avoidance.

“At long last,” Jacky said to himself, having snuck aboard and near the front, wanting to get to Zootopia as quickly as he could since his excitement was barely containable. The iron monster chugged to life and forward was he and its many cars propelled.

Such _speed…_ Jacky could hardly believe anything so large could move so _fast_ , despite his father’s stories of such machines in foreign lands. The fields and forests whisked by as his fur and coat were whipped about; luckily, he found that the roof was his best hiding and vantage spot, and so did he _marvel_ at the majesty of Zootopia with its mountainous, jeweled spires emerging from around the bend. Jacky laughed and cheered, arms raised in exultation as the locomotive approached the metropolis.

And then, as such things often do, it happened in an instant.

The “humming”, “buzzing” erupted into a roar between his ears, giving him time only to grab onto the roof and cling for his life as the worst headache he ever suffered split his skull in twain. He didn’t see what caused it but he felt it… and the trickle of blood from his nostril told him all he needed to know. “The affliction…” he wheezed, “It’s out here!” he then cried aloud, though muted by the engine’s bellowing as he bolted across the car’s rooftops, his masterful balance proving his true lifesaver as he was hit again by a wave of agony.

“Pain! Death!” he wailed, and as he collided with the roof and clung, his glasses were thrown from his face to reveal the vorpal radiance of the phone lines, the transformers, every source of electricity streaming through the air that ran parallel to the train tracks. “I have to get back, I have to warn Ruthie!” he resolved, and picked himself up again, willing to risk the jump onto the tracks behind, a far likelier chance for survival than the several hundred foot drop to the Zootopian Sound below…

But the train was far too fast for him. Jacky tumbled to his knees, turning around in terror as he heard the loudest siren between his ears and gaped upon an all-encompassing wave of iridescent, beautiful, deadly aurora… and all he could think of in his last waking seconds was a cautionary rhyme from antiquity that his mother told all her kits:

_“Little moth, little moth,_

_Dancing amidst the blaze_

_Turned to ash in a flash,_

_Ending little moth’s days.”_

Jacky only remembered waking up atop the last car of the stopped train, blood and saliva dried in the fur of his snout as he staggered sorely to his feet, barely able to open his eyes for the pain of the sun and everything else the light had to offer… Soon, he shambled off an edge and plummeted into an alleyway below the train tracks…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “habitual conscientiousness” of Ruth’s light kiss on Gideon’s cheek is due to his crippling anxiety that someone would find out about his muzzle scars. This is better explained back in Brave, chapter 6, but for the past sixteen years, Gideon’s parents and sister always showed their physical affection towards him very lightly.
> 
> Jacky carries a towel in his pack because it is always important to know where your towel is; Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (2005). Additionally, his “frequently-mended” clothes was first mentioned back in Brave, chapter 21, explaining why he became a tailor.
> 
> You can Google “gold trees Australia” and “red fox magnetic field” to find out more about the curious, natural phenomenon that inspired the Knottedwood. This was also mentioned back in Brave, chapter 13, when Nick used his nose-for-north to situate himself while blindfolded.
> 
> You might also recall the poem "Little Moth" from the final chapters of Brave as it cautions the listener against infatuation with that which you so wantonly seek. Here we have Jacky exemplifying such a notion.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're all mad here. :3

Jackie sat and watched the sunrise upon the roof of  Hightopp & Co. , the hatter for which she worked. It was her longest-held after-school job since leaving the Lonely Pines Orphanage, where she was laid bundled up in a box on the steps of one rainy night with only a note that read, “I found her alone on the road and it didn’t seem right to leave her. It didn’t seem right to take her with me, either. Maybe she’ll be the lucky one to find her family.” That note had since been misplaced and the stranger’s identity was narrowed down to “a jackal” due to the scent on it. From this, she accepted the name “Jackaline”… and later, “Jacqueline”.

As a kit, she washed dishes, mopped floors, and cleared tables for extra meals at a luau barbecue restaurant after school, the owner of which took a shine to her and called her “Anahera”, which she accepted as a middle name. She had to be on her best behavior around the rest of the staff and customers, of course, but with age came a slyer, craftier demeanor that Jackie could not help but adopt, especially after shedding her kit-fur for the sleeker, smoother coat of a vixen.

When she entered her teenage years, she was given the same opportunity as all orphans without names: to choose a name of their own. For as long as Jackie could remember, she had the common placeholder name of “Wild” to which no specific meaning was associated, other than an implied “from the” preceding it; she added an “e” on the end when she chose it, a spelling she saw used elsewhere. The other fox at the orphanage acted on his ambition, as he always did, and chose an obscure name of legend from the fox community: Loxley. According to him, it was a path to glory… but she would not succumb to the temptations of quick or easy prizes, though, not if they lead to distrust and cowardice; as was often the result with Felix, that other fox at the orphanage.

Jackie vowed that if she could not find the family that lost or abandoned her (and it certainly seemed as though such were the case), then she would  _ make _ one of her own… at least, after she earned an education, a living, and found the right tod for the job. An honest, hardworking fellow to raise kits with, the beginnings of a new lineage of foxes that rose above the shifty image the world painted them as. Perhaps she had found such a tod when she ran into that same young kit which shared a corner of a room with her back at the orphanage… and the years had grown him into a tall, svelte, charming fox… yes, indeed…

A gentle rapping at the highest window of the building disturbed Jackie’s rumination, and without a word (for he often was quiet as smoke until he wanted to be heard), Chester Vandersnatch -- or “Chess”, her friend and mentor -- sat upon the rooftop beside her. She couldn’t look at him, not when he was right all along about Felix; not when she stood her ground with caustic vehemence… and so she curled up a little tighter to tremble.

“Have you been up here all night, Jackie?” the wildcat asked after he draped a blanket over her shoulders. And though it seemed his smile could never falter, perpetually pointing the corners of his mouth skyward… perhaps it was the first time they ever dared to droop.

“No…” she lied and pulled the blanket tighter around her, wiping the dried tears from her cheeks, “Maybe.”

“Come inside, I’ll cook up some breakfast for you,” he offered, “and a nice, hot cup of tea will do you wonders.” It was not breakfast or tea which she needed, it seemed, as she threw herself upon his rotundity and gripped at his pajamas to dryly heave. Chess held her, but then his eyes narrowed as her paw was cradled in his, “My dear, what happened?” he asked, thumb brushing on the scabs which formed over her knuckles before his tone turned protective… and yet,  _ dark…  _ “Are these defensive wounds?”

She pulled her paw away but not fully, “No…” Jackie admitted, “Foxy never forced himself onto me… I doubt he would ever  _ want _ to touch me…”

“Now, why would a beautiful, young vixen like you say that? Any other tod would be graced to catch your eye,” the wildcat comforted, and the menacing grin from only an instant before softened to a paternal smile, a smile that Jackie always repaid with one of her own.

“I thought he loved me, Chess, that he was  _ different _ …” she finally said, “He was so passionate… so sincere, at first… he’d gaze into my eyes like they held the world’s secrets… said he wanted kits, a big family, same as me. But then after several months… he found out about my… my odd timings… so he got a doctor friend of his to run some tests, and…” The vixen trembled with despair and indignation, calming soon enough as her back was caressed. “I… I can’t have kits, Chess…”

“Jackie…” he consoled as best he could.

“It’s… not  _ im _ possible but…” she continued, and looked up to her friend and mentor, “You should’ve seen the look on his face, Chess, how he pulled away from me like I had  _ mange… _ And then I suggested we could still adopt and that might be better because we came from the same orphanage… He gawked like I’d grown a second head!” She trembled worse and spoke so low… so shamefully… “I even said… I even said that a surrogate mother would be okay if  _ he _ wanted his own kits so  _ badly _ … and then he said, ‘Well, I should just be mated to  _ her _ , then, shouldn’t I?’… And he was so  _ indignant _ like I  _ wronged _ him…

“That’s when I asked him… if he only saw me as breeding stock… and he said ‘Clearly  _ not! _ ’,” Jackie wailed, though muffled by the wildcat’s pajama-covered pelt. When she managed to settle again, the vixen timidly touched her knuckle, “And then I punched that pretty face of his and cracked a tooth…” A soft paw rubbed her shoulder, so she looked up again with a quivering chin, “It’s the only thing I ever wanted for myself, Chess… a family… but if I tried for a hundred years, I could never have one…” She knew how her words must sound to Chess, who was like a father to her…

But Chess knew she didn’t mean it like that, not when she leaned against him still. “Well,” he said, “this is an awful lot to take in before my morning tea. Perhaps we can talk over the breakfast table… with a hot plate of eggs and toast?”

Jackie wiped the last tears from her eyes as she chuckled and nodded, “Dean and Duncan must be wondering where we are. They do tend to worry, don’t they?”

“They do,” he kindly replied and stood up first before helping her to her feet and then through the window, “Which reminds me, they want to show you a new comic they’ve been working on. It’s quite excited them.”

“Ooh, I do like their work, they are so very funny. Are these the ones that make it into the  Needler ?” she asked, referring to the local Conifer news-rag while stepping into her room above the shop and folding the blanket. It seemed a change of subject was just the thing she needed.

“Oh no, my dear, a comic  _ book _ ,” Chess elaborated, amiably so, and made his way towards the door so that she might change in privacy, “The poor lads seem to have everything they need except the main character…”

Jackie was about to set the folded blanket down before she looked over her shoulder, eyes narrowed, “No main character, then what… this comic is Borough Watch business, isn’t it?”

“There  _ is _ a meeting tonight if you’d like to finally partake?” Chess posited with that ever-present grin curling about his face anew.

She tried to keep out of “Borough Watch business” if she could help it. Ever since that voucher for a free hat from  Hightopp & Co. arrived at the orphanage as her “unbirthday present”, and the subsequent conversations involving Jackie’s prowess at going unnoticed and remarkable cleverness, Chess had baited and teased her about his “work” with the Conifer District Borough Watch. Her curiosity and suspicion were further piqued when she discovered glow-in-the-dark gibberish on the paper lining the hatboxes of his clients, and while the grinning wildcat was  _ always _ willing to “explain everything in full”… it was on the condition that she joined him at a meeting. The comics drawn by Dean and Duncan were, Jackie eventually figured out, also part of his “work”.

The vixen sighed as she always did and was ready to tell him once and for all that she didn’t want such a hassle in her life… but she thought about Foxy… about the names she wanted to give her kits, both boys and girls… her jaw set and then relaxed in an instant, “At eight-o’clock?”

“It is,” he grinned.

“No promises, of course.”

“Of course,” he grinned wider.

“I still aim to graduate, after all.”

“I would want nothing else,” Chess assured, “Breakfast will be ready shortly,” and slipped through the door with an almost muted  _ click _ of its latching.

* * *

Dusk scurried beyond the horizon as Jackie arrived back at the shop from her night classes. The hot meal that morning, as Dean and Duncan put it, did “wonderments” and rejuvenated her for the day ahead, even lifting her spirits some for the night’s mysterious gathering. In truth, the vixen didn’t know what to expect from a Borough Watch meeting, only that if Chess was involved and eager for her to join him, there was something…  _ else… _

They -- Chess, Dean, Duncan, and Jackie -- did not dress any differently than a  _ slight _ sprucing up… and a hat. Chess had his favorite, aged tophat. Dean and Duncan, ever the twins, wore matching caps. Jackie’s hat was a wide-brimmed, simple piece of beige with a bundle of modest faux greenery and “An albatross feather?” attached to the band, “A little tacky, isn’t it, Chess?”

“Not at  _ all _ ,” he suavely replied, “The albatross has been a symbol of hope for the lost since time immemorial.”

“Well… I certainly don’t need so wide a brim at this time of night,” she teased, but it was her favorite hat and always comfortable.

“Such nitpickery uttered so ic’ly,” Dean commented, quick and clear.

“If it’s the brim that’s all the matter…” Duncan responded, at equal pace.

“Then it needs a trim from the hatter.”

“And it’s crucially utmost to ask nicely.”

“That’s manners!” the cream-furred twin wildcats both matter-of-factly said.

Jackie couldn’t help but laugh at their exchange, as it was one of the few times she actually understood what they were saying. It felt good to laugh in the company of mammals who loved her… it was just the thing she needed.

As they arrived at the meeting place, the vixen noticed only a simple, temporary sign erected to designate the back entrance of the local library as such; through the smaller door they walked (which was professionally cut out of the much larger door for larger species) and around to the private reading areas to find an array of chairs nearly filled with mammals (and not only those known for their forested habitats as there were lynxes and beavers, but also a zebra, just to name a few). They were not many and perhaps not all part of the Watch itself, but who  _ was  _ seemed… laden with a tremendous burden.

“Thank you all for coming,” an elk said, who stood until the rounded tips of his polished antlers hovered beneath the ceiling. His was an especially ragged face but his shirt and slacks remained neatly pressed, “We’ll begin with the minutes from our last meeting-”

A grizzly sprung from her seat and thrust a claw towards the speaker with an impassioned word of cursing, “Where is my son, Jerry!” she bellowed, something she had clearly been holding in for quite some time.

The elk (along with most of the others) staggered warily and groaned, holding out his hooves to placate, “Nancy,  _ please _ ,” he begged.

“You  _ promised _ … Hendrick’s been missing a  _ month _ and you promised you would talk to the ZPD!” she, too, begged, “It’s not just  _ my _ cub, either… what about Ivan, and Paul, and Wanda… you said, you  _ promised _ you could reach someone in the ZPD to look for them…” she accused, rousing a smattering of disgruntled approval from others present.

“It’s not that simple, you  _ know _ it’s not!” Jerry retorted and stamped his hoof, “How many times do I have to say it, Nancy, how many times? I try to reach out to our precinct here in Conifer and I get the same run-around that you’re getting,” he said as he gripped his clipboard, “Do you want to know what happened to Hendrick, Ivan, Paul, and Wanda? The same thing that happened to Samantha…” he about choked and this, it seemed, quelled the grizzly’s desperation as she sat down in sympathetic defeat. The elk breathed deeply and exhaled, “I’m sorry; let’s continue…”

The meeting did continue and Jackie sat in the back with the Vandersnatches, observing it all. When it was over and they returned to the shop in silence, she put the kettle on and then turned to Chess with some understandable concern in her voice, “Is it always like that, the Borough Watch meetings?”

“Yes,” he casually answered, hat upon the table, “Every other week they are reminded of the children that left in the morning but did not return at night… or when they looked away for one minute too long,” Chess continued, gazing significantly at Jackie, “I’m sure you know that Zootopia is not the shining beacon the rest of the world believes it to be. City Hall… Precinct 1… they are lined with gold and stained with blood. We of the Borough Watch either play their game or sit on the sidelines with no one to root for, but neither can we leave.”

“…Why did you bring me there, Chess?” Jackie asked with unwavering concern.

“We’ve all tried to better this place but it always takes from us until we cannot fight any longer,” and he glanced to Dean and Duncan, who in turn peered at them both, “You’ve always suspected why you received a free hat as an unbirthday present, did you not?”

“You said it was a raffle from the orphanage… not that I believed you,” she airily responded.

“I heard about you, Jackie Wilde, long before I sent you that voucher. You’re sly, crafty, clever, ambitious… you know exactly how to get what you want and will do whatever it takes to get it… but the one thing that sets you apart from other foxes, other mammals of ambition is a strong moral compass. You do the right thing because it is the right thing to do; a rare quality, indeed.”

“And  _ what  _ am I supposed to do, exactly?” Jackie shot back, paw slapping the counter, “Root out corruption in the upper echelons of the city? Turn back the clock on years of unjust laws and rules, as if I, a  _ fox _ , am supposed to be the torch that leads Zootopia into a shining, morally upstanding future?” She blinked away the mist in her eyes and watched the kettle.

“I only ask of you what you ask of yourself,” Chess replied, and by the sound of his voice, the corners of his lips curled up again, “You know what you  _ can _ do, don’t you? I saw it in your eyes when they read off those names of the lost children, and ‘reaching the ZPD’, a certain… spark of  _ genius  _ that I’ve seen in you many times before, Jackie.” When she turned to face him again, he smiled wider, “You are far slyer and  _ curiouser _ than I, my dear, and I can only hope that you hear this as the plea for salvation that I intend it to be: you have nothing that they can take from you and yet nothing that they can give you.”

Jackie clenched her jaw in an underbite, nostrils audibly flaring as her brow furrowed, “It’s a good thing I love you, Chester Vandersnatch, or I would not bother to hear another word.”

Chess sat at the table, smiling still, calmly so as he folded his paws. “ _ I _ fought back, many years ago. I knew what it meant to reach out and rescue those children. And that if there were any strings of mine left to hang then my downfall was assured…”

The vixen leaned against the counter, head turned to rub under her chin, “Foxy always said that ‘no matter how far you get, you always return to the one holding your string’,” she thoughtfully recalled.

“I had an estranged half-brother, Cheswick Vandersnatch, nearly a generation older and from our father’s first mate. We hadn’t spoken in years, but I got too close to Pleasure Island, to those that kept its wickedness running… I ignored the warnings, so sure that they couldn’t touch me… until I found a hatbox on my shop’s front step with a note that read, ‘Look what you’ve done’… inside was a picture of his severed head… taken before he was cremated, so there was no proof that his death wasn’t an accident…” Chess said, paw covering his mouth, “He still had two adult kittens with special needs that his mate couldn’t handle, not after his death… so I shouldered the mantle of mercy rather than the sword of justice. I remained vigilant, though, watching for someone they couldn’t break or corrupt.

“This is a vile war waged over the centuries, Jackie… by minds and systems that know how to crush a mammal’s soul rather than the body. Wickedness that only the most just would act against; that only the most curious would even notice was wrong… an evil that is accepted as normal. It began long before the reign of King Richard, who paid a terrible price to fight it, continued through the fall of Forestdwell… and now rots the very heart of Zootopia. She  _ can  _ be the beacon that our ancestors made her to be, and many took up the sword of justice to fight for her and her children… many friends of mine that I’ve either helped escape the city before they received one warning too many… or that I stopped before their impending betrayal…”

“They were snatched up proper-like,” Duncan said.

“Vanished right-way, as a puff of smoke,” Dean agreed.

“No martyrs in this fight, no how.”

“Only damage of the collateral type.”

“So…” Jackie gradually realized, if a bit timid of Chess’s momentary menacing, “because  _ I _ have no one I’m connected to… no family… they would have to go for me directly.”

“We are the legends our loved ones tell of us after we go and to fall in pursuit of a just cause would light that beacon, burning away enough corruption to give hope. This, by my experience, is what prevents ‘them’ from any direct retaliation, for the albatross has long since been a symbol of hope to the lost and terrible curses fall on those that would kill it. But… to drop the sword of justice because it became too heavy to wield…” Chess lamented, “In time, no one dared to stand anymore.”

Jackie turned towards the whistling kettle after pulling down four mugs from the cupboard, “Well… I’m going to need some tea to think this over.”

“Naturally,” Chess grinned.

“And I want to hear about this… ‘comic book’ without a main character you mentioned,” she then requested while pouring the tea for them all, “I get the sneaky suspicion that it, along with those daily comics you both submit to the  Needler ,” Jackie directed at the twins, “Has  _ something _ to do with your remaining ‘vigilant’.”

“Hints in the background,” Dean pointed out.

“Only visible by those looking for them,” Duncan added.

“Nonsensical to anyone else.”

“Not much a trail to lead back, neither.”

“As clever as I knew you’d be,” the larger wildcat commended as he accepted the steaming hot mug of tea, “There are some lost children that are rescued, thanks in small part to the right information getting to the right mammals at the right time. Their comic goes to numerous other newspapers, crossing Borough lines as easily as a bird in flight and much swifter than cases that span jurisdictions, which must first go through Precinct 1 and City Hall before anything is done about them; thus, into the Abyss they fall…”

“So, you need someone on the ground… which is why you had me deliver those hatboxes across the city, to get me acquainted with the pathways while delivering secret missives.”

“On the nose,” Chess grinned ever wider as his tea steeped, “Tossing a message-in-a-bottle out to a turbulent sea only puts us at risk while leaving the salvation of those children to chance,” he continued, “but to have someone with intent and knowledge, a ‘messenger’, if you will, to ensure the destination… would certainly draw unwanted attention. Even telling the tale could be dangerous, depending on who was listening. So, Dean and Duncan had the  _ wonderful _ idea of using the comic book to spread the word that the fight goes on.”

“You’re not worried that someone might find you?” Jackie asked.

“Not as such,” Chess dismissed and smirked as he brought the tea to his lips to breathe in the aroma, “If all your digging leads to a pair of autistic cartoonists, will you suspect  _ them _ or the leap of logic which got you there?”

“But  _ you _ have a history with whoever does these things, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m ‘already burned’, and as far as  _ they _ ’re concerned, I snatch up those that don’t make the cut, what ‘they’ might consider ‘trimming the dead weight’,” he explained with some unmasked disdain before smiling again, “Some ominous-looking chap came by the shop one day, though, demanding to meet with whoever ‘Dean and Duncan Vandersnatch’ were, and ended up tearing out half his pelt trying to understand a  _ word _ of what they were saying.”

“We jabbered,” Duncan plainly explained.

“He walked,” Dean proudly expounded.

“That’s misdirection!” they toasted with a clink of their mugs.

“You’re terrible!” Jackie laughed, “But I have to ask, just so we’re on the same page here… you  _ do _ have a ‘main character’ in mind? For this comic book idea, I mean.”

“Been back-&-forthing on it long-ish-ly,” Dean said.

“Only a singular mammal would do, Ms. Jackie,” Duncan agreed.

She sighed before sipping her tea, “I really don’t know what I’m getting myself into here. The dearest dream of my heart was shattered into a million pieces yesterday… and I guess now I’m going to be some kind of comic book superheroine.” Jackie put her cheek into her palm as she stared at the tea. “What would I  _ do  _ exactly to rescue these lost kids? I can hold my own in a fight long enough to get away but I’m not a police officer, or a special agent, not that the ZPD would trust me anyway since there’s  _ never  _ been a fox in uniform.”

Chess set his mug steadily onto the table, “There are good cops in every precinct of Zootopia, and if you can get to them the movements of those who would traffic children into Underland or out of the city, then we can save as many as we can.” He then reached over to the counter where Jackie set her hat to hold it and stroke the plume of that single feather, “While it is not so common a practice today, in centuries past the best couriers were mice riding on the backs of albatrosses, for a pair of the finest pilots could stay aloft for days at a time. One such pair of mice piloted such a bird to track the movements of slavers and reported back to King Richard, so the story goes. They were his Rescuers and it is said that without them, the Crusades to free the enslaved mammals of the world would have ended before they ever began,” he said, and then set the hat down near her, “All that is asked of us good mammals, Jackie, is to not remain silent when faced with evil.”

Jackie breathed deeply while cradling her tea, “Well… I’ll do my best… it might mean helping out less around here, though…”

“You’ll be doing much nobler work,” Chess said gratefully, “I’ll teach you everything I can but the rest, I am secure in believing, you will pick up on your own and in a greater capacity than I could ever provide.”

The vixen smiled in resolution… it seems a purpose was just the thing she needed.

* * *

As the years passed, those young faces of “missing mammal” posters suffered a severe decline in their frequency. Jackie’s skills in reconnaissance (along with what she learned while earning a degree in investigative journalism) proved invaluable the sharper they were honed, from the tracking of vehicles to the addresses at which children were trafficked, it seemed that the precincts in each Borough and District knew exactly where they needed to be, when they needed to be there. Not all could be saved, however… and those were the hardest for Jackie to cope with.

One day, she decided to dare reach a bit further, confident that her stealth and slyness would keep her safe. In the end, it proved a success! Jackie was one step ahead of the still nameless, still faceless adversaries that took from good families to line their pockets in gold and blood… It was a raid upon an office building that, yes, had a small group of children saved from the fate of the unspoken “Pleasure Island”, but more importantly it had  _ records _ . The paper trail of a constantly mobile, never-in-the-same-place-twice hub of operations which directed and focused its resources with supernal machination. It got Precinct 1 involved. It even garnered attention from City Hall. It…  _ they _ remained uncaught, unidentified… but Jackie knew she nipped at their heels at least once. She knew… because she earned a warning.

It was after a night class, one of the many she began in high school and continued after she graduated. She was accosted on her way home by a group of ruffians who, it seemed, were not as set to  _ catch _ her after she scampered up a fire escape. There they stood down in the alley, a small flock of big sheep who looked up at her with their ovaline pupils, and with a single knuckled finger from each, joined a terse chorus of, “ _ tsk tsk tsk _ ”. And then they left. Even though Jackie didn’t, and likely  _ wouldn’t _ , recognize them should she endeavor to search, the vixen knew from whom that warning came… and endeavored to earn another.

The “warnings” increased as her efforts doubled, but Jackie was far too sly for them. From the beginning, she never took a direct route from home to school, and only ever traveled in convoluted paths, doubling back and slipping through unconventional means, whether a gap in a fence, through a railing, under a footpath, or across the boughs of trees. They had only her pawprints and scent-trail to follow her… for all the good it did them. She was trained by the very best vanisher, after all.

On another day, in the late morning, Jackie was walking down one of her trails that lead through the Dead End train stop in Sahara Square. The sun was bright (as it often was in that part of the city) and she had just lost her latest tail… or so she thought. She adjusted her sunglasses at a pair of large, burly boars quite intent on doing her some manner of harm but the vixen had gotten out of worse scrapes before.

She slipped behind some boxes, ducked through an ajar door, and slinked down a hallway, emerging out a window on a shadier part of the building to drop down into an alley below the Oasis Hotel train hub (one of the lesser-used ones from Bunnyburrow, and so was not often observed). As she alighted onto the sparsely sandy street, she discovered that either end of the trash-lined alleyway was blocked off by even  _ more _ large, gruff pigs.

Jackie removed her sunglasses and folded them into a back pocket of her trousers, “Gentlemammals… and lady,” she coolly greeted, ears flicking at the gentle tap of a baseball bat to the pavement, the light flick of a switchblade, and to her admitted surprise, a readying net and sparking fox-taser.

“Ms. Fox,” the largest, tuskiest boar of the five present said as he adjusted his shirt. Ruffians though they certainly were, they were dressed a few steps up from a street gang. “You’re quite difficult to get a hold of.”

Her tail swept as she looked about at the obstacle-laden escape routes, “I have a full schedule most days, but there’s always time for my fans.”

The larger boar glowered and snapped his fingers to signal a pincer maneuver from the one with the bat and the one with the net…

“Surely you know better than to corner a fox,” Jackie calmly snarled, the fur rising up on her neck as her stance widened and ears pointed.

“I’m trembling,” he sneered, “but unless you have some friends that plan to drop in, I think we can handle  _ a _ fox.”

From the train tracks above a sudden agonized yell of fear plummeted into a pile of trash bags, thusly pausing all present as someone sprung from the urban detritus, already bloodied and staggering about into view, literally (and figuratively)  _ reeking _ of “farm-fox” with his broad physique, mussed-up hair, and country-boy attire.

“Pain…!” he whined, holding his head as he only just managed to stand, “Death… everywhere… all around me…”

The larger boar looked at Jackie. Jackie stared sincere bewilderment at the other fox that clearly hit the cider a  _ bit _ too hard the night prior, and then glancing at the boar she smugly scoffed. He sighed and gestured for the other two to join and apprehend them both.

For Jackie, the intrusion would have been an excellent distraction but it was obvious that they weren’t taking their eyes off her for a second.

For the other fox… he reached into his satchel and pulled out a towel to wipe off his face, whimpering still as it became apparent to him that he was in the shade somewhere, “Oh, thank Aslan…” he said, but then winced again and squinted about. His ears and whiskers flicked wildly as he sniffed and snorted, and then wiped his nose on the towel to sniff again, “Ma’am, a thousand pardons…” he weakly groaned and gestured blindly at Jackie, “but might I beg a favor…?”

The one with the fox-taser first reached for the tod, his hoof not even brushing the fur on his head before the first arc of electricity was triggered between the implement’s tongs. The tod’s bloodshot eyes bugged as his head whipped around and spotted it, his tail wheeled high and around as, in a dervish, he counter-grabbed and with no more than a fierce flick of his paws, bent the boar’s wrist in a way that it was  _ not _ meant to bend. His foot struck up and at that fox-taser, knocked first into the air before the tod twisted the boar’s arm further to drag him to the ground, and then as the tusked aggressor squealed at the pain of the break, that farm-fox delivered a snap-kick into the falling taser to scatter it into pieces.

He groaned again and held his head, glancing around at the others, “A thousand more pardons, but…?”

“Grab them!” the leader bellowed.

As the bat-wielding boar swung his bludgeon at the tod,  _ he _ swiftly closed the gap to guide its arch with one ‘gloved’ paw as the other punched the boar’s wrist. Its grip relaxed and thus the bat removed from it, but before the boar could even grunt in pain, his own weapon was spun around the middle on the fulcrum of the fox’s knuckles, and then its trajectory continued to swing up into the boar’s chin, further driven by the heel of the tod’s palm against the butt of its handle.

Next, the sow with the knife lunged and the tod’s towel whipped about after a deft sidestep, entangling the wrist while a roundhouse kick drove his heel into her knee. The knife was relinquished unto the fox as he slipped out from underneath the collapsing ovine.

The net was already airborne, so the tod held the knife and launched from the ground to cut through the mesh in a single swipe. The last boar was clearly set on leaving, but as the farm-fox flicked the knife to instead hold the blade, he threw it to strike true directly between the boar’s eyes… with the handle.

The four ruffians groaned on the ground as the tod landed and held his skull to whimper.

Jackie rushed over to her fellow fox as the leader ducked out of sight. “Alright, Farmer John, I know sunblindness when I see it,” she soothed, perhaps herself as well as him, whipping out her eyewear to set them on his face. He gasped and breathed as she led him down the other end of the alley and didn’t stop until they disappeared along another trail of narrow passages.

When he finally managed to recover and coherently say anything more than “Oh, blessed relief,” it was, “Jacky… and thank you, but I’m not a farmer.”

Jackie flinched and clinched him by the shirt to slam him against the nearby brick wall… but her grab was reversed and his strong yet loose grip kept  _ her  _ arm behind her back.

“Do not expect leniency because you are a vixen, ma’am,” he calmly stated after a series of centering breaths, and strained though his voice was, spoke with equal calm, “I’ve not been in Zootopia an hour and already I’ve experienced the worst pain in my life, was accosted by enormous thugs for no other reason than I was present, and when I believed a light of hope shone on me by a fellow fox, I find that I need to defend myself once more.”

She glared over her shoulder, bracing against that nearby brick wall, “Forgive me, I’m not wholly trusting of some sunblind fox that falls out of the blue to take down three boars and a sow, and who just so happens to know my name.”

His eyebrows arched from behind the sunglasses, but then he released her and vaulted back, “I figured  _ you  _ knew  _ me _ ,” he admitted, and then rubbed at his head and laughed jovially, “My goodness, it really goes to show, doesn’t it? Manners  _ do  _ make a mammal civil and should we have begun with our names this whole misunderstanding might have been avoided. Maybe it couldn’t have been  _ wholly _ avoided, though, circumstances as they were,” he reported, and walked forward with a presented paw, “Jacky Savage, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Jackie…?”

The vixen rubbed her wrist and looked first to his paw… and then his still smiling face, “Wilde,” she reluctantly greeted, “Jackie Wilde. You  _ don’t _ know who I am?”

As her paw met his he daintily cradled it in his palm and bowed to touch his nose and lips to the back of it, “An oversight I look forward to correcting. You are  _ truly _ a blessing, Ms. Wilde, and I profusely apologize for my recent mistreatment of you.”

Jackie smiled awkwardly as she slipped from his gentlemammal’s grasp. “Like you said, a ‘misunderstanding’, and thank you for getting me out of that pickle back there.”

“Ah yes, city-life is dangerous for a fox, it seems,” he agreed and stood to his full height. Smiling still, Jacky removed the sunglasses and immediately winced in agony, but he put on his best face to hand them back to her, “Thank  _ you _ for lending me your sunglasses.”

She grimaced some and smiled a bit more awkwardly as she politely guided them back onto his still bloodshot eyes, “ _ You _ keep them, I have others. So…” Jackie continued and stood safely away from him while still being as cordial as she could, “What brings you to the city?”

“I,” he began dramatically, “am in search of the elusive  _ wolf apple _ , a seemingly rare and mysterious fruit that not even the practitioners of plant husbandry in Bunnyburrow could enlighten me on… granted, I’m sure the rabbits there had the answers I seek but they would have nothing to do with me. Perhaps the rabbits of the  _ city _ are more welcoming to a fox?”

“Don’t count on it,” Jackie answered, finding herself a bit more at ease.

“Ah… shame that…” he lamented, “Would  _ you _ happen to know anything about the wolf apple, or where I might continue my search for it? You strike me as an especially observant and sly vixen.”

“Flatterer,” she smirked and walked past him with a  _ swish _ of her tail, “I’ve not heard of a ‘wolf apple’ if it is not an apple grown by a wolf. However, I suggest you ‘quest’ your way over to Savannah Central, there’s plenty more information about fruits and veggies there than here; the library, for starters.”

“Excellent, a wealth of knowledge,” Jacky delighted and rubbed his paws, and then turned to half-bow, “A thousand gratitudes, Ms. Wilde, now I need only know where ‘Savannah Central’ is.”

Jackie touched the bridge of her nose and chuckled before looking over her shoulder, “This really  _ is _ your first time in the city, isn’t it… do you remember where you fell from? Just return to that station and take the ‘Zootopia Loop’, you can’t miss it with all the signs everywhere.”

“‘A star to sail by’,” Jacky coined, “just the thing I need. Until our paths should cross again, Ms. Wilde,” he bid and then turned on a heel to run back the way they came.

“Fairfarren,” Jackie bid back, and then muttered under her breath, “you crazy, kung-fu farm-fox. Such a shame that you’re so handsome, though,” she admitted and likewise turned on a heel to let him fade into memory.

* * *

The dinner table of the Greys dully thundered with the collision against wood, making John jolt in his chair and frown with ears pinned as he looked up to Goliath, from whom said collision originated (undeniably so since his mitt-of-a-paw was still quite visibly  _ there _ ). John gulped and managed to wet his mouth enough to say, “This is bear-sized,” and tapped the towering can of  “What’s Bruin?” microbrewed cider.

“Hey, tha’s what  _ you _ said,” Gideon pointed out to Nick.

“That’s because it’s  _ correct _ ,” Nick replied.

“Could I get one of those?” Jackie requested.

“I don’t see why not,” Goliath amiably acquiesced, and set down the beverage with only the barest of  _ ‘thunk’ _ s, even popping the tab for her with a friendly hiss of carbonation.

“Thank you, Goliath,” she said and sat up to sip, “Whew! Heady…”

The largest fox held up the remaining six-pack to respective and polite declinations, “Essy? Giddy? Nick?”

“Thanks, Pa, but I had my fill of cider for the week,” Gideon reported.

“Such moderation,” Ruth commended as she allocated the servings of savory spaghetti, sparing no noodles, sauce, or meatballs for anyone present.

John popped his own tab and caught as much of the froth in his mouth as possible, “I get that you’re upset about my being absent these thirty years-”

“Thirty- _ one _ years,” Ruth casually corrected.

“Give-or-take,” John accepted and then looked to his brother-in-law, “but did you have to shake up my cider?”

“Consider yourself lucky that I grabbed you a cold one,” Goliath answered before sipping his own brew.

“Alright, guys, let’s cut Uncle John some slack,” Esther butt in.

“ _ Thank _ you, Essy,” John sighed.

“We should give him a chance to defend himself before hanging him by his tail for disappearing for three decades.”

“Oh, come on…” John groaned.

“You’ve said worse about yourself plenty of times,” Jackie inputted.

“ _ Yes _ , but not in front of  _ others _ .”

“Oi’,” Gideon interjected while tapping his finger on the table, “I didn’t make this dinner to be a firin’ squad on Uncle John. I wanna at least hear the rest of the story.”

“It doesn’t sound like you have another jab for Dad,” Nick wondered aloud.

“Tha’s because I really do wanna hear the rest of the story, Stretch, and I notice you ain’t jabbing much, either.”

“I’m reserving mine,” Nick said.

“I’d like to hear more of the story, too, which I’m hoping will happen before another emotional breakdown.”

“ _ Esther _ .”

“Calling it how I see it, Pa.”

“No kit’s too old for a swatting, Essy. Now, Jacky-” Ruth began, looking between her sister-in-law and brother, “So sorry, Jackie.  _ John _ , would you please lead us in grace?”

John blinked and then smiled at his sister as the seven foxes interlocked paws around the table, he to Jackie on his left, to Gideon, to Ruth, to Goliath, to Esther, and then Nick on his right. “Happily.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Anahera” means “angel” in Maori. I pictured the luau restaurant to reference Lilo & Stitch, initially, but I also like the irony of the curator resembling Pua, the pig from "Moana".
> 
> “‘We jabbered,’… ‘He walked,’…” is a play on “Jabberwocky”, the big beastie from "Alice In Wonderland (2010)". Their exchanges, such as “That’s manners!”, references Tweedle-dee & Tweedle-dum from "Alice in Wonderland (1951)".
> 
> “‘This is bear-sized,’ and tapped the towering can of ‘What’s Bruin?’ microbrewed cider” refers to what Nick said back in Brave, chapter 5 when he and Gideon share a drink.
> 
> Nick mentions a notorious kidnapper in Brave, chapter 16, by the name of “Mr. Snatch” which by his reckoning has been around for decades and is more likely a group of mammals based on an urban legend than an individual. Chester Vandersnatch is the mammal that the urban legend is based on. His efforts to maintain the integrity of the Borough Watch resulted in mammals going missing without anyone realizing until they were long gone; something of an “everything is a nail when you’ve got a hammer” situation. In modern times, there is a darknet company utilizing the "Mr. Snatch" moniker that disappears their clients to escape a broad range of troubles (financial, mostly).
> 
> The “rash” of missing children was touched on back in Brave, chapter 22, all of which changed when Simon King was cubnapped.
> 
> For the sake of this story, Jackie’s origins are not as detailed as John’s are since not enough time has elapsed between the scene in the hallway and the dinner table, and this chapter exists primarily for the audience rather than the characters.


	14. Chapter 14

It was just as that lovely vixen had said, the “Zootopia Loop” line was plainly labeled, as was “Savannah Central”, and since so few check the roofs of trains Jacky was once again able to avoid paying for a ticket (something he would, in the future, realize was the wrong way to go about it). Luckily for him, there was an entire map of the train lines on full display, which meant that after he studied it he would have it with him always; memory and such games involving it were always keen for Jacky, something that the other foxes back at the Knottedwood called an “inexorable talent for grudge-holding”; Jacky considered it an unfair name since he  _ always _ forgave the littlest slight… even if he did always remember them. It certainly helped him recall his own measurements when mending and making his own clothes.

The greater metropolis awed the humble farm-fox, and with his new sunglasses, he could take it all in without the pain of the electrical aurora (the initial shock had since dulled to a manageable ache and his current pair were better than his previous). But more than the colors of the signs and buildings were the other mammals… such species he heard and read about, but to see an elephant or a giraffe, the “titans” of lore that could dwarf his village’s buildings or to see mice and squirrels, the “wee folk” whose entire world could exist inside a single tree. He’d seen the latter in Bunnyburrow, yes, but out  _ here _ there were so many more…

And then he saw a tiger whose fur was like snow… it was not his pelt that intrigued him but what he  _ wore _ . He sat on a bench reading a newspaper and so didn’t yet notice the nearby farm-fox admiring his suit. It gave him quite a start when he finally spotted Jacky.

“That outfit is a boon to clothing,” the fox promptly complimented, “I’ve seen them more and more as of late, yet  _ yours  _ is of such exquisite quality. Had I the freedom to apprentice, I would want nothing more than to learn your technique in making it.”

The tiger chuckled with some confusion but he folded his newspaper and pivoted in his seat to better show off his attire, “ _ I _ didn’t make this suit; it’s a Goateng, from Liondon,” he began, straddling the line between exposition and boasting, “but it  _ was _ fitted by a tailor in Downtown,” and then dramatically paused, “none other than Nathan DeCoyote.”

“‘Nathan DeCoyote’, got it,” Jacky said with an amiable tap to his noggin, “I shall pay him a visit if I have some time by the end of the week. If I might ask another favor- oh!” the fox chuckled, but not at the taken-aback yet amused grimace of the tiger, “I nearly closed the door on my tail twice in the same day. Proper manners, this time: Jacky Savage, a pleasure to meet you, Mr…?”

“Kristofur Pounceski,” he cautiously responded and shook the offered paw, “Although I get the impression you do not know that DeCoyote is one of the most exclusive tailors in Zootopia. To get an appointment for  _ my _ suit took… it must have been two or three weeks, I think, and that was pulling quite a few strings, from what I heard.”

The fox pondered aloud, “That would be a tangent too far of my task, sadly. I thank you for the inspiration, Mr. Pounceski, and good luck with whomever you are set to meet today.”

“Yes, and good luck on your… wait, how do you know about my meeting?” the tiger asked of the fox, his brow arching with some hint of concern.

Jacky was poised to turn but then pivoted right back around to cordially grin, “Because of your suit. It’s new, that much is obvious, except that wrist-mounted clock and your briefcase are humbler by far than such a posh outfit would lead to believe, so it was acquired  _ for _ you by whomever pulled those strings to get it fitted by DeCoyote, making it either a gift or a favor. I’m leaning towards the latter, so granted to meet with a client of importance since if it were acquired for  _ you _ then it would be a color better suited to your eyes or fur. This leads me to why you’re here and at lunchtime, the  _ best _ time to meet in good company, and that you are dressed to impress more than anything.

“One  _ could _ reason that you are en route to or from your normal job, but Downtown is in quite the opposite direction from the train  _ I _ took to get  _ here _ and a ways to travel without an exceptional responsibility, and whomever you work for to grant you such a suit must be in or near DeCoyote’s inner circle to have ‘strings to pull’; likewise, you certainly don’t live where there is no evergreen in sight to enrich your fur with the aroma of pine needles,” the fox explained to an aghast tiger, “It’s actually a smell similar to someone else I met today, which was why I felt I could trust you, Mr. Pounceski.”

“That…” Kristofur said as he leaned away, “is  _ very _ unsettling… how you know all that…”

The fox’s eyes flicked one way and then the other behind his sunglasses before he smirked and lowered the pitch of his voice, “I’m only here to rattle your nerves a bit, Kristofur,” he fibbed, and hopped onto the bench to lounge, lightly batting at the tiger’s arm with the back of his paw, “ _ Relax _ , you’ll do fine.”

The tiger’s eyes bugged before he released his breath and slumped where he sat, “Oh  _ jeez… _ Mark sent you, didn’t he? Sorry, I wasn’t expecting any antagonism today, at least not from a surrogate,” Kristofur groaned, and then rubbed his temples as he prattled, “This luncheon could make or break us but I’m sure you already knew that. You had me going there for a second, ‘Jacky Savage’, and I guess it didn’t take long to get me sweating. Mark and his silver tongue should be doing this, not  _ me _ .”

Jacky sat forward and gripped the tiger’s thick arm, “You  _ got _ this, and you want to know how I know? Because I was tempted to hop on the next train into Downtown and march right up to DeCoyote for my  _ own _ suit.”

Kristofur was clearly doubtful, but his gradually un-cinching eyebrows heralded his response, “…Really?”

“By my fluffy red tail,” the fox swore, one paw at his chest and the other held up, “And the next time you see Mark, I think it best you do not mention  _ me _ … we wouldn’t want it getting out that he worries about you.”

The tiger blinked… and then smirked some, “Heaven forbid,” he said under his breath, ear flicking as the next train approached, “Here’s me,” he said with a steadying stance, and then held out his paw towards the fox, who cordially shook it, “Stay out of trouble, Jacky.”

“No promises,” he chuckled and then nodded at the newspaper under his arm as the larger predator stood and walked off, “By the way, where might I find my own copy of that paper of yours?”

“Newsstand, right over there,” Kristofur answered as he pointed, “although I suggest you drop that whole… ‘farm-fox’ act or else this city  _ will  _ eat you alive,” the tiger punctuated with a smirk.

Jacky duly noted the warning, along with the observation that his parlor trick of reading a mammal by their clothes, scent, and paraphernalia might actually come across as  _ intrusive _ rather than entertaining (quite different from back home). Additionally, he was glad to have picked up some linguistic habits from scouring Bunnyburrow the week prior or else his manner of speech might very well cause undue suspicion. “‘Farm-fox’ it is, then… but not  _ too _ much,” he reasoned, and scampered over to his first collection of information, for his ‘quest’ -- as the ineffably beautiful Jackie Wilde put it -- could not be delayed, “Still… to learn the secrets of making a suit from a prestigious tailor of Zootopia is undeniably tantalizing…”

“The Zootopia Times” took center stage of the newsstand, its majesty as the city’s biggest paper was undeniable even to a humble farm-fox like Jacky. None of its surrounding papers could compare, not the “Bunnyburrow Beacon” (which he was already marginally familiar with), the “Savannah Seeker”, the “Sahara Sun”, the “Rainforest Reader”, or the “Tundratown Tribune”, and other such alliteration titles of information sources. John pondered if the immensity of that newspaper and its broader range of knowledge would actually be more useful than the hyper-focused publication of a farmyard…

His green eyes glanced up at the vigilant yak running the newsstand, idly chewing gum before inflating a pink bubble and lapping it up with a tongue to swallow it whole, thus beginning the process over again. The chewing intensified as the fox stepped closer, seeming to mark his actions with the steady mastication of brightly-colored, sugary rubber and then held to grind as the clawed fingers leafed through the named sections at the top of the Times. Jacky’s ears pinned as he squared his shoulders and deeply breathed at the realization that he would need to interact to get anywhere.

“How rude of me,” he said with an amiable smile, “I’m Ja-”

“Yeah?” the yak lowed.

He paused, seeing the dust over the hill. “I’m looking for-”

“Yeah?”

“Some inform-”

“Yeah?”

“About-”

“ _ Yeah? _ ”

Jacky sighed and stepped back with paws in plain view, “Do you know where I can find a  _ library _ ?”

“Not here,” the yak said matter-of-factly and adjusted his heavy jacket some as he added another stick of bubblegum to the substantial wad filling his gob. He then pivoted and extended a cloven hoof to exchange money with a hippo purchasing an edition of the Zootopia Times and a golf magazine. As the yak leaned out to give the change, his profusely shaggy head turned and he nearly protruded from the stand to sniff at something. “Didn’t you hear me?” he yelled at a just-out-of-sight raccoon kit near the comic books, “This  _ isn’t  _ a library!”

The raccoon kit bared his teeth and stuck out his tongue, gruffly shoving the comic he read back into its place (not  _ exactly _ where or the position in which he found it, but close enough). He cinched up his corduroy overalls and secured a stick in his back pocket, “C’mon, I know some  _ better  _ places to hang out,” he said and stalked off.

Jacky glanced at the yak and then to the raccoon. “Oh, whereto, then?”

“Huh?” the younger predator grunted as he walked first into the fox and then past him with the barest bump, “I wasn’t talking to  _ you _ ,” and then scurried off.

The fox adjusted himself and then checked his bag. “Yep, little scamp swiped the apple,” he told the yak running the newsstand.

“Yeah?”

“Tit-for-tat, though; I swiped the stick he cares so much about,” he explained, holding up the single length of roughly polished wood with a casual waggle between his fingers, “You don’t pay much attention to an item unless it’s important to you,” and then stashed it inside his knapsack.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be sure to meet up with him later, give him enough time to think about the consequences of his actions.”

“ _ Yeah? _ ”

“It’s a teaching trick where I’m from. Now then, about that  _ library _ -”

“Look, fox, your loitering is making my paying customers  _ jumpy _ .”

Jacky sighed again and peered at the notably nervous gnus hovering just on the other side of the newsstand. “Would it ease their worries if I bought something?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” the yak replied.

As his patience was sufficiently tested, the fox checked his funds (that is, the loose change he found while scouring Bunnyburrow over the past week) and counted out a buck-sixty-eight. Since Jacky did not want to drain his entire budget on a courtesy purchase, he perused to find a marked-down-from-forty-cents comic book: last month’s crumpled issue of…

“‘Mr. Foxglove’?” he read aloud, though quietly, and if ever there was an occasion to doff his sunglasses and suffer the sting of the city’s electrical bombardment, then it was to  _ marvel  _ at the lamplit depiction of a fox in his full battle regalia as a private investigator: keen brown eyes shining from beneath the brim of his hat at some suspicious silhouettes around a corner, open duster showing a neatly pressed suit in exquisite balance of style and utility. “Now  _ that _ is a fox,” Jacky managed to utter when he regained himself. Thirty-five cents was laid upon the counter and a single penny flicked from a thumb to land squarely on the pile, “For your troubles.”

“Yeah.”

“Would you happen to know of a nearby library?”

“Yeah.”

“It might give me somewhere else to loiter.”

“…Elm Street.”

“If we ever meet again, good sir… it would be too soon.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

While no fox of the Knottedwood would say that Jacky was ill-read, they would agree in large part to his deficit of attention should  _ anything _ else draw his focus. He was no rambunctious kit (anymore), but a full-grown tod with plenty of techniques under his belt to keep him on track. Many of these techniques fell by the wayside until he read through the entire issue of Mr. Foxglove… thrice. That fictional fox coaxed two drives within him, in addition to his “quest” of the wolf apple: first, to somehow find that bewitching Jackie Wilde again; and second, to get himself into a proper suit.

The suit he could make back at Knottedwood; he had fabric and thread and an idea on how to develop some patterns which should keep him  _ plenty _ busy. As it is, he managed to find a ragged, torn trench coat that someone left out (which needed a rigorous airing and mending before Jacky could wear it; for which he was thankful that Ruthie slipped the pocket-sized sewing kit into his satchel before he left). As for Jackie…

Maybe it was her fading scent on his sunglasses which kept her fresh on his mind. Maybe it was how they met, in a shady alleyway accosted by shady mammals, so akin to the  _ noir _ of Mr. Foxglove. Maybe it was that risqué scene at the end of the comic… It took all of Jacky’s jealously-guarded attention to remember that he and his sister practically swore an  _ oath  _ to each other that they “did  _ not _ leave the Knottedwood to court”. The tod kept his cool around Jackie as best he could, true, and it was perhaps the greatest act of composure in his  _ life _ , but it was hard not to notice how a vixen from the city dressed to show off the shape of her…

“Wolf apples!” Jacky announced, vaulting upright while sitting on a shady corner of the roof of the library on Elm Street, “There I go again, oblivious to the passage of time.” He hastily shoved the comic book back into his knapsack… where he found that stick he swiped from the raccoon kit. “That was a few hours ago, wasn’t it…” he realized upon examination and a thorough blanching but soon regained the color under his fur, “I think he’s learned his lesson by now.” After catching the young predator’s scent from the item, Jacky pointed at the building on which he stood, “Don’t go anywhere; I know where you sleep,” and then chuckled as he whispered to the stick in dramatic apostrophe, “I got that beauty of a line from Mr. Foxglove, sly devil that he is.”

The kit’s trail was easy enough to pick up after Jacky made his way back to the Savannah Central train station since he had not only his scent but an estimate of his height, the length of his stride at both a walk and a run, and a general idea of his demeanor. He soon figured out that the young raccoon returned to the newsstand (which was closed at the time, thankfully), “No doubt looking for his lost stick,” and from there could follow his nose until he heard an especially forlorn and muffled sobbing inside a narrow alley. Jacky sighed and stood at the entrance to whistle for the kit’s attention.

The tearful, “masked” face rose and pointed at the fox, puffy red eyes widening as the stick was waved in plain view, “I think this belongs to-” Jacky began to cordially say.

“Give him back!” the raccoon demanded and wildly threw an empty can in the tod’s general direction which was deftly parried with an effortless flick of the stick. It was really the mad charge of the ring-tailed rascal which might have caught Jacky off-guard, except he nonchalantly side-stepped and guided the emotionally distraught youngster -- again with the stick, but also with his tail -- around in a double-repositioning to send him running back down the alley.

“Now see here-” Jacky continued, pointing academically with the length of wood and found that the raccoon immediately pounced on the other end to tug as desperately as possible. When the fruitlessness was evident, he simply released his grip and let the kit fall onto his ringed tail. The kit then scurried away and clutched the stick for dear life, sobbing still before glaring over his shoulder with such hateful daggers that it was easily what stunned Jacky the most.

“Stupid fox, taking stuff that isn’t yours!” he whined, “You’re an  _ adult _ , you’re supposed to set a good example, not steal from  _ kits _ … just as bad as the rest of them, no good at all… stupid jerk fox…” and then returned to his huddle.

A pang of guilt struck Jacky for causing such anguish on a fellow mammal, much less a predator, much less a “shiftier sort” (like himself), even if the anguish  _ was  _ perhaps self-inflicted and the full scope of circumstances wasn’t possibly knowable at the time. Still… Jacky was not often deemed “an adult” despite his self-identification since most of the foxes that knew him back home long gave up trying to associate him as such. Another part of Jacky felt justified in telling the kit off for his hypocrisy until he heard muttered…

“Could always get another apple,  _ hundreds _ of apples…”

So, Jacky flopped beside the raccoon’s cold shoulder to take off his sunglasses (for it was not as bright in that alleyway), both arms draped over his propped knees before he examined the eyewear. “That was actually my only apple,” he said, “plucked it right off a tree in Bunnyburrow. You have good taste in fruit, though, because the rest of the apples on that tree were  _ really _ juicy and sweet; hundreds of them just like you said.”

The raccoon muttered some kind of snarling affirmation.

“Sorry about your friend there, I suppose I can be a bit rude,” Jacky continued as he scratched under his cheek, “We had a fun time, though, jumping over rooftops and reading comic books… He’s strong, too,” the fox pointed out, noticing the faint dents in the wood, “I bet he protects you real well.”

“I guess so,” the ring-tailed kit admitted and sniffled, and then sat up a bit more, “A lot of the other kids don’t mess with  _ us _ .”

“No kidding?” Jacky responded with an impressed tone, and then swung his sunglasses around by the arm, “I got these from a friend of mine, a really pretty lady-friend… I’ve seen lots of other sunglasses in stands and shops, but  _ these _ ones… I’d be really upset if someone took them because  _ they  _ protect me, too.”

The “masked” face looked at them, and then Jacky, and then sneered, “I bet you  _ kissed _ her, too,” he mocked, “adults are  _ always _ kissing.”

Jacky laughed, “It’s a good thing you didn’t bet anything because you’d be  _ wrong _ ,” he revealed, “We actually got into a nasty scrap with a bunch of boars… I think one was a sow. She gave me these for saving her life -- the vixen lady-friend I told you about, not the sow -- and then we went our separate ways… I wouldn’t mind seeing her again if I’m being honest.”

“‘A bunch of boars’, like…  _ two _ boars?”

“ _ Five _ boars,” he corrected… even though one was a sow and the other ran off.

The raccoon’s bright eyes were clearly calculating. “Hey, Mister… you’re not going back to Bunnyburrow  _ tonight _ , are you…?”

Jacky’s tail swung about for a feathery bushwhacking to correct the raccoon kit, “If we are going to start asking favors, we need to know each other’s names first,” to which he grinned and brought his paw about to shake… before curling the fingers to thrust his thumb into his own puffed-up chest, “Name’s Jacky, Jacky Savage, and don’t call me ‘Mister’, that’s for  _ old  _ mammals.”

The raccoon sprung to his feet, jabbing a thumb into his own chest rather proudly, “Alright, Jacky,  _ I’m _ Rocky Cooper and you work for  _ me _ now!”

“Well, I quit,” Jacky plainly said and donned his sunglasses again.

Rocky reeled. “You can’t just  _ quit _ !”

“I believe I just did,” the fox amiably continued and stood up to brush off his pants and straighten his coat, “I’m afraid I’m  _ very _ busy and haven’t the time to take on another job.”

“Okay, then… I work for  _ you _ !” Rocky compromised.

“Alright then, you’re fired.”

“But… but you  _ need _ me!”

“More likely than not it’s the other way around, which if that  _ is  _ the case, then you have my sincere sympathies, Rocky… and don’t cry, I’ve seen your real tears and those aren’t them,” Jacky asserted and then sauntered back to the street, “Your friend is returned and I even threw in some solid advice to help you through life, so I’d say our business is neatly squared away. Let’s meet up again the next time I’m in town.”

“Wait, where’re you going?” the kit demanded, keeping on his tail.

“The library on Elm; I have a  _ lot _ of research to do and not a lot of time to do it in,” he said.

“Research on what?” Rocky desperately asked and scampered a bit more.

“The wolf apple, if you  _ must _ pry,” and slipped out of sight around the corner.

Unsure whether to leave the alleyway or not, Rocky stayed just behind and yelled, “Wait! I know what that is!”

Jacky leaned back into view with a severely quirked eyebrow, “It’s not an apple grown by a wolf.”

“I know it’s not,” the raccoon said and scooted up to the fox, the stick in his back pocket once more, “It’s a  _ flower _ , a llama in Haymarket had it, except I don’t think he knew anyone else was listening, but at first he called it a low… lobe…” he groaned with uncertainty.

“ _ Lobeira _ ,” Jacky finished, smirking and sliding his sunglasses down to the very tip of his nose as he leaned forward and braced his knees, “Indeed, the flower from which the wolf apple grows… and my best lead in over a week of searching. Just what were you doing near llamas, anyway?”

“I like tacos, okay? And no one else went near  _ those _ llamas, so it was easy pickings.”

Jacky grinned. “So, tell me something, Rocky, what sort of help do you need from a fox that can single-handedly take on ‘a bunch of boars’?”

That “masked” face grinned right back, “There’s the Poot Moot at Muddy Swamp tonight, it’s for all of us kids that don’t have homes. We make packs and divvy up the streets except  _ I _ don’t get picked.  _ Ever _ . But with  _ you _ there… I bet I could make my  _ own  _ pack!”

The fox smiled endearingly before he stood up with a click of his tongue, flicking his head and ears back to slide the sunglasses up his snout and onto his eyes, “Wouldn’t bringing an  _ adult _ be cheating?”

Rocky crossed his arms. “You’re not an adult if you don’t kiss a ‘pretty vixen’.”

Jacky’s grin fell. “I’ve… gotten  _ very _ close to kissing my share of vixens…” he argued and gesticulated, “Kissing is the gateway to  _ twitterpating _ , you see, and I… well, I am a  _ gentlefox _ , and as such, do not idly kiss-”

“Yeah, I haven’t kissed any girls either,” the raccoon reported with a grimace, “What’s important is that it’s not cheating if I bring  _ you _ !”

The fox stared for a bit, blinking behind his sunglasses. “Sadly, I won’t be around long after finding my wolf apple…”

“Which you still need  _ me _ to find. Those llamas just got here and only  _ I _ can help you catch them before they leave,” Rocky boasted.

“They’re still  _ here _ ?” Jacky asked; glad that his sunglasses could hide the utter shock in his eyes.

“Well, yeah! I only got those tacos  _ today _ you know, and I’m glad I stuck around to grab some more, otherwise, I’d have  _ never _ heard about that wolf apple,” he continued boasting, “So we got a deal, Jacky?”

“I daresay we do,” the fox said in masterful recovery even though that dread gnawed at the back of his mind, it simply wouldn’t do to have the kit see him flounder, “You get me my wolf apple and I get you a group of ragtag urchins.”

The pact was sealed. The plans were laid… Rocky would build his pack of wayward children and rule the streets of Zootopia. Jacky would bring the wolf apple to Goliath and warn him that his former masters were close. With heads and tails held high but kept low, they skulked over to Muddy Swamp for their awaiting destiny.

* * *

Two months of planning culminated into that night… Jackie followed the clues and shadowed the suspects, catching whispers of “a big score” while dodging notice to find herself in Muddy Swamp, Marshlands. She arrived an hour before sunset and set up her eyrie with a telephoto-lens camera, binoculars, a notebook, and more importantly, a comfortable seat. With only one degree separating her from the monsters that made a business of kidnapping children, she was not about to leave anything to chance.

The “Poot Moot”, as her notes read, was a meeting of all the prepubescent gangs of Zootopia to gather new members and assert what belonged to whom… it was a regular posturing of would-be alphas if alphas still had their babyfur. As far as Jackie knew, the children named it on account of that particular section of Muddy Swamp… and because they’re children. Regardless, it was a distant warehouse far off any beaten path, yet across the Bayou was Deersborough, about as “uptown” as one could get in the Marshlands with its glistening nightlife that was content to reflect the distant Savannah Central. It was far from any lights, that warehouse, and no nosy neighbors to call about rambunctious kids up at odd hours of the night.

No one else would be around for miles.

It was a simple scheme: disable and bag every street urchin  _ “they” _ could find as succinctly as possible and then skip upstream into Vine Country. Once the Rainforest District jurisdiction was crossed there was all the time in the world to process each youngster as the reports went up to Precinct 1 and then would be lost to the machine… simple, but also desperate to attempt so many at once, even though nearly all of them were children of the streets. Ever since Jackie became the fly in their ointment by tipping off the local precincts to their plans and substantially dampening their business, quotas needed filling and fat needed cutting no matter the risk. Small fry was grabbed, which was all well and good, but it was  _ nothing _ compared to the festering nest of spiders at City Center… Jackie couldn’t touch  _ them _ … not yet.

Maybe it was lucky that Farmer John literally dropped in when he did as he turned out to be a fine distraction after all. If the darker side of the rumor mill were any indication, hearsay slithered through one ear and the next about a “government agent” or a “foreign operative” sent to destroy Pleasure Island for good. It scared all the right folk, by Jackie’s reckoning, just enough to jump the gun of an otherwise carefully-planned “harvesting”. Two months of meticulously pinpointed timing and secrets… jostled by a single fox in one day, in a few  _ hours _ , and an ill-fated slip of information that told Jackie their  _ exact _ movements.

For Jackie’s part, all she needed to do was gather up the faces and vehicle identifications of the kidnappers and the Vine Country precinct would have warrants for their arrests at the ready; so long as she didn’t get distracted. Which… was happening quite a bit that day, if Jackie let her mind wander too much, namely about a specific farm-fox… How he seemed to glide across asphalt as though it were glass, tail wheeling to further propel his body like a spinning top… He threw those pigs around like ragdolls… and all while sunblind and dropped from an overhead train. What could he do at the top of his game?

Farm-foxes were no mystery to Jackie, they all tended to be brutish and far too straight-forward (unbecoming traits, especially for a fox) but John was eloquent, refined almost… “schooled”, one could argue. Except he wasn’t as uptight as some of the city-foxes she knew, either. They were conniving, silver-tongued charlatans no matter at what end of the societal spectrum they sat, whereas John was refreshingly open about his intentions, what little Jackie knew about them, begging for “pardons” and “favors” as if from another time… As evidenced by that shirt he wore, mended a dozen or more ways and looking like something out of a frontier movie. If her years as a hatter’s apprentice taught her anything it was how to recognize a tailored stitch, and John’s was anything but off-the-rack, with every seam and panel fitted to his body with  _ such _ …

Jackie shook her head furiously. “There’ll be plenty of time for distractions  _ after _ ward,” she reminded under her breath. The sun was already setting, the last of its reflections thinning in the waves on the Bayou until only the electronic lights of the city could mimic the stars above. The vixen was secured in her location of a construction site, up on the fifth story of an unfinished building and behind a wall. No one could hear her. No one could see her. And she used a special deodorant that prevented all but the  _ keenest _ noses from tracking her.

Carefully… slowly… Jackie drew the baton she kept secreted away, whipping around and flicking her wrist to extend the bludgeon to its full length in a single, fluid, practiced motion. The weighted steel tip swung with a fury at the unknown assailant behind her, but the shaft caught harmlessly against the forearm of “John!” she then barked.

He blinked his vibrant green eyes, “‘Jacky’, if you please,” and then grinned as he watched the weapon collapse when she half-heartedly thrust it into his chest, “Is that a… a  _ telescoping  _ cudgel? Amazing!”

“What are you doing here?” she snarled, wagging the short baton threateningly, “Actually, I don’t care. How did you find me?”

“Are we negating the first question?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

“Because it’s a fun story.”

Jackie glowered and returned the baton to its hiding spot, “Nice coat, by the way, did you pull it out of a wood shredder?”

“No, from a dumpster. And fret not Jackie, I only found you because I was  _ looking  _ for you.”

“All of Underland is ‘looking for’ me, John.”

The tod arched his eyebrows and puckered his lips in thought, “Well, I’m not of this… ‘Underland’, I’m from the Knottedwood, far beyond Bunnyburrow. And to dissuade any of your concerns, I didn’t find  _ you _ I found the mysterious ‘Ms. Fox’ which a young friend of mine told me about on the way here,” he began, and then lightened when Jackie’s brown eyes with green flecks softened a bit in curiosity, “One of the big issues at the Poot Moot tonight is all the freelancing boys and girls that have gone missing, which apparently one ‘Ms. Fox’ has a paw in saving.”

Jackie returned to her binoculars to hide the flush of her cheeks, “You don’t say?”

“He told me everything as best he understood it, this young friend of mine, which immediately led me to think that this gathering tonight would be an  _ excellent _ chance for such dastardly villains to capture more youths. I won’t bore you with my line of reasoning, I’m sure you know it well enough yourself,” he jovially dismissed, “But lo-and-behold, I spotted a rather large yet low-profile watercraft that my father would certainly call a ‘smuggler’s boat’.”

She whipped around again but not to strike him. “You  _ did _ ? Where?”

“Oh, over by the docks there,” he said and gestured towards the river, “I heard the movement of water under the boardwalk as my friend and I went towards the warehouse. Nothing out of the ordinary until there was a muted gasp of air and a splash, as though someone was  _ swimming _ . I dared only a moment to check below and saw the stern of a boat being pushed by a  _ large _ set of mitts and a  _ large _ set of nostrils… a hippopotamus. At first it seemed like they were simply stranded, the hippo and the mammals steering, but obviously such is not the case if one avoids notice as much as they did.”

“That at least confirms what I already knew,” Jackie commended with a smirk, “But good job, Farmer John, in the city a day and you’ve already discovered its dark underbelly.”

He chuckled ruefully, “My name is-”

“You don’t get to choose your nickname,” she promptly interrupted, “ _ John _ .”

_ John  _ gaped like a fish on deck, glowered, and then crossed his arms, for there was a power to names. “Touché. In any case, I knew danger was on the rise and despite the numerous warnings to my young friend, he insisted that ‘nothing could go wrong’ and that I was a chicken.”

“Who is this ‘young friend’ of yours?” Jackie casually asked, eyes back in the binoculars to check out the docks.

He rubbed his chin in thought, “Well… I suppose since you likely know each other already, it wouldn’t hurt to reveal his name. Rocky Cooper-”

“Crying out loud…” the vixen immediately responded and then asked rhetorically, “What kind of trouble did Rocky pull you into…?”

“You  _ do _ know him,” John said in mild triumph, “I thought as much when he showed recognition every time he said my name, he likely heard  _ yours _ , so identical as they are. He wasn’t apt to tell me, but what  _ is  _ the story with him and that stick of his, Grooper? I do not intend to pry but I cannot shake the feeling that there is something terrible in his past.”

Jackie glanced over her shoulder and reclined a bit. “Rocky’s family lived in the lower end of Deciduousville, on the border of Conifer District. A little over a year ago, the tree in which their house was built caught fire… from what I heard, he fell out a window, grabbed a branch on the way down, and never let go of that stick since. He and Grooper are the only ones that made it out alive,” she soberly explained, “An event like that… it messes a kit up, especially someone so young. I’ve tried to help but he insists he can make it on his own, just him and that stick. Suffice to say, he doesn’t get along with others… in fact, I think you’re the first I’ve ever heard call him a ‘friend’.”

The tod leaned against a steel beam and scratched his neck. “I see… I’m glad I found you then, ‘Ms. Fox’, and though you hid exceptionally well, the glint of your spyglass and the gentle aroma of pine needles on your coat lead me to you all the same. If I hadn’t thought to check for lookout positions high off the ground, since there was nowhere else a mammal could keep an eye on this warehouse without drawing attention, I’m sure I would have never spotted you. Also… I think the Poot Moot is about to start.”

“ _ What? _ ” Jackie exclaimed and glanced at the warehouse before peering through her telephoto-lens camera, “You’re right, it’s the kidnappers… they’re wearing masks but if I can at least get their species it’ll be a good start…” she cursed through her teeth, “I don’t see any vans… which means they’re using boats under the docks and I can’t get any ID’s off their vehicles, at least right now.”

“I suppose you could always go in and ask them yourself,” John suggested, crouched beside her with his eyes jammed into the binoculars, “These things are  _ superb _ , by the way. Aslan’s mane, can these measure  _ distance _ ? Extraordinary!”

“I don’t know if you realized, but they have  _ tranq guns _ and  _ tasers _ and they’re already securing the doors.”

“There’s an open window.”

“It’s thirty feet off the ground.”

“Thirty feet, you say?” he pondered and carefully set down the reconnaissance gear, along with his satchel, “I know what I have to do now: save Rocky. Please keep an eye on this.”

“You’re  _ not _ just walking up to them, I hope,” Jackie flatly said, “And why, was it a gift from a lover?”

“ _ I _ made it, by my mother’s instruction,” John corrected, “and of course I’m not going to ‘just walk up to them’,” he then scoffed, “All the same, I place full trust in you and your skills in observation, Jackie,” the tod smiled, “now that the sun is down and the aura is much thinner here, I feel like a whole new fox.”

Jackie glanced down at the satchel as he swept off… “Stubborn idiot,” she muttered under her breath while securing the mother’s gift a little closer to her. After a few more clicks of the camera of yet unidentified assailants, the vixen heard an odd movement of metal behind her…  _ above _ her… Her ears flicked wildly as she surveyed the area of the construction zone… and gawked when the overhead crane shifted the slightest bit as the cable which dangled from its end swung… and on the end of it was that crazy farm-fox. It took all her composure not to shriek at the top of her lungs as Jackie witnessed the cable catch on a horizontal beam at full force and  _ whip _ John through the air. Impossibly and yet undeniably, he soared into that open window like a dart.

A yelp sounded from her lips when she wrenched her ears, thus confirming that she was, indeed, awake. The vixen was back on her binoculars, watching at how the very few ne’er-do-wells outside were completely unaware that a fox just slingshot himself into the warehouse from the nearby construction site. They  _ did  _ notice the lights of the warehouse suddenly go out, though.

Oh, to see inside those walls lit only by the moonlight… the (adult) screams of utter surprise and din of combat beckoned those outside to rush in and aid their fellow villains… Tranq darts fired while tasers buzzed and flashed, woven with the collision of metal or wood on flesh… and the high, bone-chilling cackle of rapt madness. A single part of the roof collapsed to trigger the retreat of the kidnappers and Jackie held her breath as she watched, not daring to pack anything up until the last boat’s motor echoed in the distance… except none sped into view until they were too far or obscured to catch a picture of.

The camera, the binoculars, the notebook, and the seat were all secured in the tod’s satchel as Jackie flew down the unfinished building, rushing with all the haste afforded her to the tod carrying a raccoon kit out of the warehouse.

“Jackie!” he said in hushed exclamation, double-timing to meet her while still holding Rocky. She set down the satchel and camera case as he laid the raccoon kit against the propped-up bag. His coat had brand new holes and taser burns in it… and yet  _ he  _ seemed untouched.

“Oh my goodness,” the vixen breathed as she inspected the still very tranqed child, though breathing regularly, “Are they…?”

“Each one is safe, sound, and thoroughly groggy; I did the best I could to make them comfortable with the available tarps and blankets inside. I doubt they’ll think of this more than a nightmare,” John assured.

Jackie sighed with relief and as she stood, so did he; and when her paw swung around to slap him across the face he leaned back to deftly dodge it. “You idiot!” she barked and snarled, finger jutting with livid accusation.

“I didn’t know you cared-” he smugly responded but immediately recoiled when she further angered.

“Do you realize that I have  _ nothing _ I can turn into the police?” Jackie declared on the verge of tears, “No faces, no names, no vehicle IDs… I wasn’t trying to catch  _ these _ criminals but their  _ employers _ !”

John blanched and smacked his lips before he stood upright again, chest out, “And I suppose I should have let these poor children be  _ bait _ ?” he warily rebuked.

Jackie pulled at her fur and growled, “They were  _ going _ to be saved after capturing the ones  _ behind _ everything! But now… but now I don’t have a way of tying  _ anyone _ to  _ anything _ . Now I have to wait and hope and pray that they are so foolish, so  _ desperate _ enough that they’ll overreach again… but they’re only going to be  _ more  _ careful with  _ you _ here!”

The tod reeled back, his entire face tight as he glanced away and then back at her furious, brown eyes with green specks. “I don’t suppose…” John offered.

“You’ve done  _ enough _ ,” Jackie snapped, and turned on a heel to crouch near the satchel, carefully setting Rocky’s head aside so that she could remove all of her stuff from it and then toss it at the tod’s feet, “Go back to Bunnyburrow, Farmer John; maybe when  _ ‘they’ _ realize you’re gone they’ll be a bit more daring… but who knows how many more children we’ll lose before they make another mistake…” With all the effort still in her, she tried to juggle the camera case, the binoculars, the seat… and Rocky.

“Here…” he offered but yanked his arm back as she bared her fangs.

“Go. Home.”

John rubbed his wrist as though it were struck, tail tucked pitifully between his legs as he watched her grow more frustrated with each attempt to carry all of it by herself. His jaw wagged in any attempt to say something clever before he simply blurted out, “ **ZOO 51063 C416** .”

The vixen paused and peered over her shoulder with slightly misty eyes, faint tears of exasperation which were blinked away, “And what’s  _ that _ ?” she asked. Jackie  _ seemed  _ hopeful; perhaps, as though it were something she was looking for but still cynical that it was found at all.

“It was the number on the stern of the boat I saw,” he reported, tail slowly unfurling from his legs as he took a deep breath, “I do not know how watercraft are identified in the city… or really at all, but such a specific number couldn’t be a whimsical name given it. At least, I  _ assume  _ not.”

The heaving she once clung to gradually relieved into steady breath as Jackie studied his anticipatory face. Everything was set down on the ground and Rocky carefully propped up against the pile as Jackie approached John, brow still very furrowed and eyes narrowed a bit, “Did you take a train or a bus to get here?”

John cleared his throat. “We… Rocky and I… we took the train, hopped on the back and-”

“What were the stops along the way?” she asked.

Green eyes blinked and glanced about, not in recollection but doubt of such significance. “It was the Zootopia Loop: we got on at Savannah Central, passed Elm Street, Walnut Street, Harbour Street, and then got off at Mangrove Avenue-”

“The Animalia Line, starting from Lion’s Gate!” she quickly quizzed.

John softly groaned, and again,  _ not  _ in recollection but in continued doubt, “Lion's Gate, Prairie Road, Elm Street, Oat Road, Berry Lane-?"

“And you’ve only been here a day?” she inquired.

“I saw a map of the train lines earlier, not long after we parted ways at Dead End,” John recounted, “I’ve always been keen with games of-”

“What was the boat’s number, again?” the vixen nearly demanded, pulling the notebook and a pencil from her pocket.

“ **ZOO 51063 C416** ,” the tod casually repeated, not missing a beat.

“You have an eidetic memory!” Jackie joyously announced and jotted down the boat’s hull identification number in her notebook.

“It has a  _ name _ ?” John wondered, “Every fox back home called it ‘grudge-holding’…”

It happened in an instant -- as such things often do -- when Jackie grabbed him by the cheeks and pressed her lips to his for a kiss that was a momentary gesture of excited gratitude for her… and an inexorable eternity of bliss for him. Had fireworks erupted from the back of his skull, John could not have rocketed higher or been greater stunned.

Jackie was saying something about… something as she began packing everything back into the tod’s knapsack. John staggered about behind her with gyroscopic grace before planting both feet on the ground when the satchel’s strap was looped around his shoulders.

“Hop to it, John, this information is burning a hole in our pocket,” she instructed, carrying Rocky (and Grooper) with a  _ swish  _ of her tail across the tod’s chest.

“Ah,  _ yes _ , of course,” he immediately responded, quick-stepping behind her as they headed for a dock that bridged the islands of Muddy Swamp, “Where are we going?”

“First, I need to tell the local Borough Watch about the knocked-out children in that warehouse, make sure they get somewhere safe,” Jackie explained, “Second, we need to see a friend of mine about this boat’s HIN, in a few hours he’ll have everyone connected to it and since no one there will know that  _ we _ know it, we should be able to follow it up the chain of command long before it’s abandoned anywhere.”

“Am I to come with you?” John asked, “You’re using ‘we’ quite a lot.”

“Of course you’re coming with me,” she grinned over her shoulder, “Unless you have somewhere  _ else  _ you need to be?”

“Well… I suppose since I could not procure a gang for Rocky, per my end of our bargain, he is not obliged to procure for me a wolf apple, per  _ his _ end of our bargain.”

“Still looking for that ‘wolf apple’, huh?” Jackie mused and gently rubbed the drearily mumbling raccoon kit slumped on her shoulder, “Then it’s a good thing you ran into  _ me _ , Farmer John, because if it’s in Zootopia, my friend can find it, given enough time. Which… makes me curious as to how  _ Rocky _ found something that I’ve never even heard of.”

“A part of that ‘funny story’ I mentioned earlier,” he said, and set down the heavier sack when Jackie handed him Rocky so that  _ she _ could hop up into a phone booth on one of the larger islands away from the warehouse, “He swiped food from some… less than reputable llamas visiting far from the south-”

“Llamas from the south?”

His ears pointed when he caught sight of her shocked face, “You know of them?”

Jackie put the phone receiver back onto its cradle, “I told him to stay away from those llamas, they’re  _ drug dealers _ ,” she groaned her disappointment of the raccoon kit, “Another of Zootopia’s ‘little quirks’, I’m afraid. I’ve only heard rumors but it sounds like they’re in town for ‘business dealings’. I steer clear of them because they’re not connected with the kidnapped children, so far as I know… although there  _ are _ stories of kids used in drug smuggling…”

John grinned awkwardly and cleared his throat, “Quite an…  _ interesting _ city you have here,” he mentioned to a forlorn shake of her head, “Although… I cannot for the life of me figure out  _ how _ youths -- like our good friend Rocky here -- could be a commodity valuable enough to commit heinous crimes to attain, even for the purposes of smuggling.”

The two foxes exchanged an awkward disquiet before Jackie finally responded, if hushed, “Are you aware of… Pleasure Island?”

“I am not.”

“And…  _ pets _ ?”

“Well,  _ I _ had a pet beetle as a kit and an older sister tends bees, but I would think  _ them _ less a pet…” he rambled for a bit, watching how Jackie’s features grew sadder and sadder… and he hugged the raccoon to his chest a bit tighter, “You’re not saying that these children… are stolen as  _ pets _ ?”

Jackie was long silent. “Pleasure Island turns mammals into dumb animals,” she explained, “and children are more easily turned than adults. Zootopia… Zootopia is a unique place. It's a crazy, beautiful, diverse city. The most diverse in the  _ world _ and with that…” she softly choked and bitterly said, “A diverse marketplace. King Richard’s Crusade continues to this day, John. There are still mammals out there who are enslaved… who’ve been robbed of their dignity and made into  _ pets _ , like a bird in a cage or a fish in a tank… but  _ mammals _ naked and on a leash.” She then turned and picked up the receiver again, dropping change into the phone when John could only stare dumbfounded.

He stroked the back of Rocky’s head and looked off in the direction they came from at the warehouse full of children from the street… and the fate they were narrowly saved from. “I am where I need to be when I need to be…” he prayed, “That I might have the strength to do what I am sent here for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Goateng" is a pun on famed London tailor, Ozwald Boateng.
> 
> Young "Rocky Cooper" is based off Rocket Raccoon from "Guardians of the Galaxy"; his last name comes from his voice actor, Bradley Cooper (and not the video game namesake, "Sly Cooper"). The stick is Groot.
> 
> “Twitterpating” comes from the movie "Bambi" and is considered an old-timey term for the sake of this story (it likely went over Rocky's head and got a hearty laugh from Jackie when she heard it).
> 
> [ZOO 51063 C416] This hull identification number (HIN) is "ZOO" for Zootopia, "5/10/63" is Rich Moore's birthday, and "C416" represents Zootopia's theatrical release date in the US, March (C) 4, 2016.
> 
> “Zootopia is a unique place. It's a crazy, beautiful, diverse city.” This description comes from Gazelle in the movie but I’m not directly linking her and Jackie; I just like the description and found it fit here.
> 
> So… the real darkness of Pleasure Island comes to light for my audience…
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If you should ever find yourself in a position that you simply must partner yourself with a small predator, seek out the humble ferret or possibly the mink; they are a studious, clever, mild-mannered folk that respects a mammal's privacy while also displaying sufficient levels of professional affection. Unlike other shiftier species, the ferret is not conniving like their cousins the weasel, kleptomaniacal like the raccoon, lackadaisical like the otter, and will not pry into one's secrets as does the sly fox. With this in mind, we can begin to accept predators into the workplace alongside prey and create a better society for all."
> 
> -Early predator species "integration" propaganda

“ _ ‘John _ Savage’,” John enunciated as he reclined upon the roof of  Hightopp & Co. , “It doesn’t quite have the same…  _ allure _ as when Jackie says it, though,” he lamented. The tod stretched his jaw and clicked his tongue off the back of his frontmost teeth, “John.  _ Jo~hn _ ,” he continued, foot bouncing on his knee a bit, “John _ ny _ ?” he then tried, only to grimace, “Feels like there should be an extra syllable in there somewhere… ‘Excuse me, I need to yawn before I can smile’… and that would just validate Corbin’s insistence on calling me ‘Johnny’, wouldn’t it. Goodness, it  _ is _ an exhausting name, isn’t it, this ‘John’?” John sat up and rubbed his chin in thought, “Ruthie often calls  _ me _ ‘exhausting’… perhaps I’ve held onto a kit’s name for too long…?”

“John,” Jackie said as she leaned out her bedroom window to look about and address him, “whom  _ are  _ you talking to?”

“Myself,” he casually said, pivoting on his seat to brightly face her, “I find that I’m excellent company.”

“Right… listen, that boat ID we found tonight will take some time to track down, as will the wolf apple,” she continued, “The Muddy Swamp Watch is sorting out those street kids and Chess agreed to look after Rocky for the time being but the long-&-short of it is…” Jackie sighed and hopped up onto the windowsill, “There’s really no easy way to say this but you’ll need to find some way of supporting yourself while we wait for that info to come through. You can stay here for a night or two but Chess  _ isn’t  _ the most charitable when it comes to… not saying that  _ you _ ’ _ re _ one, but ‘freeloaders’.”

John was taken aback if the twitch of his tail and whiskers were any indication. “And how  _ long _ do we expect these things to take…?”

Jackie kicked her feet somewhat awkwardly. “If we’re lucky… three to five days… a  _ week _ if we want to be cautious,” she explained to his patient grimace, “That’s just how this goes, I’m afraid.”

“I anticipated a week… but a week wherein I was  _ busy _ with my task, not waiting around for my task to finish itself,” he quietly griped.

“I understand your antsiness,” she continued and spoke lower, “but this issue with Pleasure Island and the kidnappers is only known to whom it directly affects and as it is, we of the Borough Watch depend on those pulling the strings to dismiss us as negligible. We’re just average mammals trying to keep our families safe… and so long as we only ever appear to keep our heads down then the retribution is slim-to-none,” Jackie explained, “It’s a  _ very _ delicate process and I’ve been rocking the boat these past few years. If it weren’t for the Vandersnatches covering my tracks I’d have  _ never _ lasted this long;  _ officially _ , I don’t even live here.”

They were silent for a time as John considered the family he left and then smiled warmly. “I’ve noticed that  _ your _ family is comprised of wildcats, Jackie, and quite the jovial lot they are, especially that Chess fellow.  _ Never _ have I seen a grin so wide.”

She laughed, “It normally disturbs others… and they’re not  _ technically  _ my family even though I consider them to be.”

“Oh… you were not adopted… or mated into them, perhaps? I mean, I know you don’t share a surname, but-”

“Oh, no!” she flushed, “I’m not mated… and also…  _ no _ , not adopted either. I just kind of…  _ outgrew _ the orphanage.”

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to pry…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jackie dismissed with a wave of her paw, and then crawled onto the roof to sit next to the tod, who would shift to the side to provide room, “Chess is the closest I’ve ever had to a father. A time will come when I strike out on my own… or even inherit the business from him, if he can’t find an apprentice.”

“Neither Dean nor Duncan will shoulder the mantle…?” John asked.

“Good heavens, no… their talent lies in drawing comics, telling stories, that sort of thing… don’t let them near the microwave, though,” she sadly chuckled, “In all seriousness, they’re the closest I have to brothers and I love them as such.”

“Both of my parents still live, as do my five other siblings,” John picked up, “My sister Ruthie and I are the youngest… she has a way with kits and I have a way with the Knot. I’ve spent my entire life trying to get out of the Wood where my family grew up, to reach this city… and now that I’m here I feel as though I’m  _ truly _ trapped… It’s heartbreaking to earn such suspicion and disdain simply by being a fox…”

“Welcome to the real world, John,” Jackie facetiously congratulated and clapped his back.

“We’ve always known that the rest of the world wanted nothing to do with foxes, that’s why the first families of the Knottedwood hid away as they did, hundreds of years ago,” he explained with a gesture of his paw towards the east, “Papa would tell of his days as a shipfox, kept aboard as a ‘lucky charm’ and a living compass… he had to fish for a lot of his own food, wore only a pair of burlap slacks, slept in a different part of the ship every night… he didn’t know his family, either.

“He grew up on the infamy of Captain Piberius Savage,” John continued in dramatic flair, “A mantle, you see, rather than any one fox, to carry on the myth… with fur as red as blood and a single eye as green as an emerald, he executed his foes with the hook in place of a paw,” he told, “Papa’s eyes were green like that… like mine… he was called ‘Mr. Pibs’ by the rest of the crew since he didn’t really have a name, but it was also a term of endearment. That lasted until he saved them all from a fiery doom and sailed their half-destroyed ship into safe harbor.”

“That… that’s  _ amazing _ ,” Jackie said in awe.

“It was an erupting volcano,” he revealed to a gasp, “We Savages can be intimately aware of the world’s natural machinations should we choose to hone ourselves to it; my sister Ruthie was  _ born _ strong in that regard… it’s my belief that it made her a bit  _ mad _ , honestly, but I’m hardly one to talk. That sense is how Papa found the Knottedwood to begin with. After he earned his stripes in the Liondon Navy-”

“Wait, the  _ Navy _ ?” she disbelieved.

“Oh, yes,” John enticed, “He’ll have called himself an ‘admiral’ but I know the truth, as does Mama: he was a  _ privateer _ , a pirate under the protection of the Parliament Crown of Liondon… but he needed a name to join, didn’t he?”

“He went with ‘Piberius Savage’,” came a flat inference from a coy smirk.

“Got it in one.”

“But you’re not…  _ actually _ descended from  _ the _ or  _ a _ Captain Piberius Savage, are you?”

“…Why do you ask?”

“His name’s not unknown, John, and neither is his likeness. I’d be careful with parading  _ my _ self around as ‘Pick-a-Name  _ Savage _ ’.”

“As though I would just  _ abandon _ my family name!” John said aghast.

“I never said that,” Jackie retorted, “Just… it’s one of those infamous names in the fox community here and you might find yourself… rubbing elbows with the wrong crowd. ‘Be careful’ is  _ all _ I’m saying, especially with your  _ very _ red fur and…” she lingered a bit looking into them, “bright, green eyes.”

He huffed and arched his eyebrows but then decided to continue with a warm smile, “Papa’s babyfur was smoky-gray if you can believe it, but he was ‘raised’ in a slum of red foxes -- along with some other refugee predators -- so when his babyfur fell out it was replaced with a rich crimson.”

The vixen sighed as the tension passed, “Was his mother a gray fox?”

“That’s the suspicion, with his father a red fox. And since he had no name of his own he donned both it and the mantle of Captain Savage. He wore a patch and a hat over his eye and held a hooked dagger, with his cuff folded out to obscure his wrist, mastered the art of disarming and fencing… he is  _ poetry _ with a blade. It was simple enough to switch back and forth between a Naval officer and a scourge of the sea should either benefit him.”

“How downright  _ devious _ .”

“Now now, Jackie, it wasn’t all  _ that  _ bad,” John reprimanded, “Papa did what he needed to do to survive but  _ never _ went against his principles. He formed a rapport with his commanding officers and his crew up until he retired at a relatively young age.”

“Why retire? If  _ I _ were a fox in the Royal Navy, I wouldn’t just fade away. What an  _ inspiration _ he would be if young foxes knew-” Jackie  _ began _ to say but caught herself before going too far, “His position must’ve earned him a few enemies.”

John tapped the side of his nose, “The world flinched when a fox donned the uniform, according to Papa. He kept his cards close to his chest, performing only the ‘heroic feats’ that didn’t incur a lot of attention. After a few years and fewer footnotes in the annals of Naval History, he was able to purchase a small sailing ship to follow the whispers of his father… he didn’t even have a name, only a direction which led him to the Knottedwood. He met my mother, Clawdia, and that’s where he’s been ever since.”

“So… you were sired and raised by an orphan that never knew their family…” Jackie pondered.

“I was,” he confirmed and then sighed as he looked over the nightlit Conifer District… the side which was the nearest part to Underland as one could get, according to Chess, “I’ve only been away half-a-month and I already miss them… how foolish it now seems to have run so  _ desperately  _ from the Wood.” They were quiet once more, hearing the soft sounds of birds and insects amongst the trees. He turned to her and smirked, “You are  _ very _ easy to talk to, Ms. Wilde, and as much as I enjoy telling stories I do not often relate the ones which I consider more… intimate knowledge.”

“It’s both my gift and my curse,” she cooed.

“Quite disarming; I could learn a thing or two,” he said under his breath.

“Speaking of gifts and curses… who trained you to fight like that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“ _ All _ foxes are trained in defense in the Knottedwood. It strengthens the body and sharpens the mind… While my sister’s magnetic sense is stronger than mine by far,  _ I _ put it to practical use beyond finding wayward kits. I declared a challenge to the entire village to look me in the eye and pluck a single hair from my head. To date, no one has-” he boasted and promptly dodged the deft swipe from the vixen. She snapped her fingers as he grinned with supreme smugness and then they joined in hearty laughter.

“I guess it was kind of obvious, huh?”

“From a mile away,” he chuckled, “Jackie… does Chess know of DeCoyote?”

“Who  _ doesn’t _ ,” she scoffed good-naturedly, “Why, looking for a good suit?”

“ _ Yes _ , feverishly so… but more for someone I can apprentice under, at least for the time being,” John said and smiled, “I have a very specific skill set, you see, and other than sewing there isn’t a lot else I can do to earn my keep.”

“Sadly, ‘adventurer’ doesn’t hold up on a résumé,” she teased and then stood, “I’ll talk with Chess and see if he has any contacts willing to take on some extra help. He knows just about every tailor in the city… sadly, his relationship with them has grown… we’ll say ‘tense’. So it will be up to you to win them over.”

“All I need is a star to sail by,” he coined and hopped to his feet.

“You’ll also need a ‘ship’,” the vixen pointed out with a grin as she crawled back in through the window, “I know my way around a needle, so as a favor and a ‘thank you’ for your help tonight, maybe I can scrounge up a suit to make you a proper city-fox.”

John gasped with delight as he slid in through her bedroom window. “Just like Mr. Foxglove!”

Jackie coughed and chuckled, “Of course you know about Mr. Foxglove.”

“Handsome devil, isn’t he?”

“That  _ is _ how he’s drawn.”

“Sadly, both his author and artist hide behind a corporate moniker; ‘The Tweedle Bros.’,  _ indeed _ ,” he scoffed and then suavely pointed out, “Although I’ve noticed that  _ you _ are a fan, Jackie, judging by that box of comic books hidden under your bed.”

She bristled some and knelt down to address that box, “They’re not-!”

“No need to be ashamed, he is an  _ excellent _ read, even though I’ve experienced but the one issue- _ oof! _ ” he then groaned, for the entire box was thusly shoved into his gut to leave him quite dumbfounded.

“A very merry unbirthday to you, John,” Jackie said in a forced grin, “The lot is yours to keep  _ if _ \-- and  _ only _ if -- you never speak of this again. Alright?”

The tod’s entire face brightened as he looked into the box, and then holding it in one paw he zipped his lips with the other, “But… would you mind terribly if I stored them  _ here _ for now? I really haven’t anywhere else to-” he said, halted when she yanked the entirety from his clutches to haphazardly slide them under her bed again, “Well alright, then.”

“Anyway,” she sighed and went over to her dresser to acquire a measuring tape, cradling the roll in one paw and pulling the end with the other to extend it out, “I’ll look for the suit after dinner but right now, we can get your meas-…” she coughed after she turned around, only to turn around again but  _ quicker _ , “John, you don’t need to take your pants off.”

Unfortunately, said pants were already flapped and folded on the bed as he stood in only his tunic, which was gratefully long enough to almost reach his knees, “Of course I do, how else will you get an accurate measurement? I suppose I could just  _ tell _ you my inseam but I do not know how a Zootopian tailor measures slacks and I wouldn’t want to step on your tail.”

“Is your shirt still on?” Jackie asked, daring to peek over her shoulder.

“Well…  _ yes _ , it is. I saw a suited tiger today and he wore a shirt under  _ his  _ jacket, therefore, any measurements you take will need-”

“Yes, good,” the vixen affirmed and steeled herself, tools at the ready to acquire and record the lengths and girths of his physique as succinctly as possible. The stiffness in her step was hard to miss as she strode behind him.

John stood smugly when she measured his shoulders, “I can see the honey glow in your ears,” he whispered, “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“‘Honey glow’,” she retorted and then mimicked a farm-fox accent while measuring an arm, “Us city-foxes jus’ call it ‘blushin’.”

“Mm _ hmm _ ,” he hummed, arching his chest a bit as she measured it next, “ _ You _ kissed  _ me _ , as I recall.”

Her eyes left his partially opened shirt to look him square in the face, “It was an emotional moment,” she coolly recounted.

“It really was,” he agreed.

She measured his neck, cinching it like a tie and even pulling his face closer, “You’re cute, Farmer John, but I’m not in the market for a mate,” Jackie said, and then released him to jot down the number on the tape.

John lightly shrugged as he sprung upright again, even leaning back as she measured his waist, “I could say the exact same thing, Jackie, except I haven’t decided on a nickname for you yet.”

“Oh, am I not deserving of anything so clever?” she mused and measured the outside of his legs.

“Because ‘Jackie’ is a name that best suits you, ‘a name you cannot help but smile when you say it’.”

Her thumb was at his ankle to get his inseam, but then she glanced up and sat back on her heels. “Isn’t that what  _ you _ go by, though?”

“My name is ‘Jonathan’ but all throughout my kithood I  _ demanded _ to be known as ‘Jacky’ for that exact reason,” he explained, and then knelt before her, “However… I like when you call me ‘John’ because I cannot help but smile when you do.”

She was silent for a time. “You’ve got some… as they say,  _ ‘honey glow’  _ in your ears.”

“Oh?” he replied, and it seemed to glow a bit brighter, “I suppose this might be… as they say, an  _ ‘emotional moment’ _ …”

A polite rapping at the door launched either fox away as if they’d each burst into flames.

“Yes! What?” Jackie called while quieting both her heaving lungs and racing heart.

“Dinner is ready,” the jovially dark voice of Chess purred, “I shall leave your meals outside the door. Please return the dishes to the sink when you’re finished.”

“Thank you!” she breathed.

“That’s impossible,” John gasped in a panicked whisper, red-hot ears waving about as he hastily put his pants back on, “I didn’t hear him approach the door… and I’m not hearing him leave!”

“ _ Relax _ , it’s just Chess, he creeps everyone out… and we  _ are  _ adults, so it’s not like we were doing anything  _ wrong _ …” she petered off, calm finally regained.

He secured his attire and pushed his mess of head-fur back with a deep, centering breath. “A thousand pardons, Jackie, I let myself be blinded by my own emotions yet again and… put us  _ both _ in such a precarious situation… Aslan’s mane,  _ what  _ was I thinking?” he began to rave and pace, “I  _ wasn’t _ thinking, is what!”

“What is the  _ matter _ ?” she demanded, “You act like we’re being unfaithful or something.”

“I  _ always _ keep my promises,” John suddenly retorted as he turned on her, finger pointing, “And I swore an  _ oath _ to… to  _ not _ …” he tried, weakly waggling said finger at her patiently crossed arms and then slowly wheeled his own paws in explanation, “to not  _ court _ .”

Jackie’s brow furrowed. “I suppose you have a girlfriend or fiancé back home, then?”

“N-…  _ No _ ,” he confessed, “It’s just…”

“So why promise such a thing?” she probed and took a step closer, arms still crossed but face much softer.

“I’m realizing that I never  _ actually _ swore an oath to not court…” he further, abashedly confessed, one finger twiddling over the other, “But… finding a mate outside of the Knottedwood would mean  _ staying _ outside.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Jackie asked, standing at his elbow, “And why, is it  _ taboo _ ?”

“Not as  _ such _ ,” he muttered, ears burning again, “It’s just that we of the Knottedwood cannot leave and those outside cannot enter… there’s a terrible affliction that happens to any fox that does. It… it goes away with time or so I’m told, but it’s a painful, awful process…”

Jackie was quiet as she mulled it over and decided to collect their dinner from outside her bedroom door. “It sounds like whomever you leave that forest for must be tremendously special, a concept not foreign to me,” she said, and knelt down to reach into the hallway and pick up the dishes, “I knew someone many years ago… he promised me the world and more and all I had to do was give him a son,” Jackie told, closing the door and balancing both bowls on her arm as she walked them over to the bed, inviting the tod with a wave of her tail.

“It sounds like you caught the eye of a prince… or would have, if there was any fox royalty,” John commented and sat down on the bed across from her.

“He was nothing more than a charlatan with a tongue of pure silver which lured me like a moth to flame…”

“‘Little moth, little moth’,” John idly quoted.

“Yeah… he burned me when he found out I couldn’t have kits,” she quietly reported. Jackie lifted the dishes used as lids for the still steaming bowls of curry… and then looked up at the tod across from her… waiting for an answer.

Vibrant green eyes returned her gaze but not with pity or disappointment… but with a smile, “I’d say he’s the biggest idiot this world could have ever produced… and this coming from the biggest idiot of the Knottedwood. Ask any fox there and they’ll say, ‘There goes Jacky Savage, redefining “idiot” with each new day’,” John said in dramatic flair to Jackie’s giggling, “So you can count me an expert on such matters… that it would be the most supreme act of idiocy in all of history to leave you, Jackie Wilde.”

Her misty brown eyes with their bright green specks blinked as her paw turned up… for his had set upon it. They took care to cover the steaming bowls of their dinner and set them upon the dresser… neither would mind reheating the curry later on.

* * *

The possessor of an eidetic memory -- as John learned it was called -- had no need for a list in order to keep track of the day’s itinerary but he could hardly deny Chess’s advice of the catharsis of crossing off its items. It was a list of tailors in Big Dune, Savannah Square that according to Chess, are not nearly as picky as those nearer the center of the city; additionally, it was safer than showing up anywhere near the Marshlands anytime soon. John felt invincible in the forest-green suit Chess dug out of a closet for him (using Jackie’s measurements) but voiced his assumption that the wildcat only wanted him as far away from the shop as possible, to which Chess wholeheartedly agreed and wished him the best of luck on finding a job.

John’s morning in search of an apprenticeship under a Zootopian tailor mirrored his efforts of finding the wolf apple in Bunnyburrow, complete with thrown objects and shoo-ing brooms (no firearms, thankfully); some were even polite enough to  _ warn  _ that the cops were only a phone call away before dialing. When the list was exhausted, John doubled his efforts and broadened his parameters via a phonebook and all of the tailors therein for Coyote Canyon, Sandy Ridge, and Hyenahurst. The fox grew more and more winded, exceptionally so when it was revealed that said tailors were calling each other about “a suspicious red fox skulking about”.

Were it not for seeing Jackie every night, the tod would have long since given up hope that the city was any place for him or his kind. He even wrote a letter to Ruthie explaining everything that happened in that first day… but found his paw went numb when trying to sign his own name… “John” or “Jacky”… “Savage” or “Wilde”… Rocky -- who holed himself up in the crawl space and began collecting discarded electronics -- provided  _ some _ solace to the desert quadrant of Zootopia… if he could be pulled away from his tinkering long enough for a conversation. Both Dean and Duncan absorbed every story that John had to tell them,  _ especially _ what happened that night at Muddy Swamp (which John was happy to tell again and again). Chess… was satisfied to hear about the tod’s endeavors at traversing the city in search of an apprenticeship, more so to wish him all the luck he would need each morning before trying anew.

After the third day, John decided to take a break. “Shade is free, thankfully,” he weakly told no one while lounging beneath a poolside palm tree out of view, idly tying, untying, and re-tying his necktie to keep his mind and paws busy. “I wonder if Chess doesn’t like me…” he, again, told no one, “ _ I _ could be a hatter’s apprentice… maybe this is all an elaborate test or prank…” John doubted if his voice could be heard over the music and mingling of whatever shindig occurred on the other side of the hedge; he was additionally assured that he also wouldn’t be bothered since there was a security detail cordoning off all within spitting distance (a solitude which attracted him in the first place).

The smell of shrimp and fruit was all too tantalizing for the hungry fox… even if he  _ did _ attempt further distraction through idle eavesdropping of… what he figured was some kind of high-end business meeting with some kind of… aristocrat, to the best of his limited knowledge of metropolitan  _ savoir-faire _ . John began to think of the white tiger he saw the other day and wondered with whom he might have been meeting on his way  _ back _ down the Zootopia Loop train line from which the fox himself came; his voice was so clear on his ears…

John sprung where he sat. “That  _ is _ Kristofur…” he quietly realized, eyes wide from behind his sunglasses and nostrils flaring to catch that trace aroma of the larger, snowier predator. With all the caution and stealth afforded him (on an empty stomach), the sly fox slipped amongst the hedge and peered out to confirm what his ears and nose already spelled out: the musk of cats both large and small, the rich cologne or perfume of businessmammals both male  _ and _ female, and the scented aroma of styling gel for the fur of… the  _ severest  _ scantily-clad servitors balancing trays of  _ hors-d'oeuvres _ and drinks on the tips of his or her fingers. Especially large or nimble cats stood guard at the gates and while John avoided their vigilant eyes before, he suspected it would be a hard sell to explain how he got in.

And then he spotted him: Kristofur Pounceski.

And then he spotted  _ him _ , the center of attention at whom no one else dared gaze unless  _ he _ directly addressed  _ them _ : an alpha lion. Unlike the swathes of suited cats (spotted, striped, and plain-furred alike) done up in their  _ finest _ business attire, that alpha mammal looked like he should have been carrying around a tray of saucy shrimp or flamboyant mixers… were it not for his unmistakable authority. His dark-golden mane was slicked back but arched forward like a wave of manifested luxury that surrounded his neck and cleaved his chest as though it were both a king’s crown and robe. From the rings on his fingers to the stylish austerity of his sunglasses, to the…  _ disturbingly  _ provocative swimwear, it was clear to John that he was looking at modern-day royalty whose very presence was a challenge to any other potential alphas.

And poor Kristofur… he stood straight as a board just outside the lion’s canopy as he spoke with the lounging alpha, who was doted upon by no less than  _ three _ strikingly beautiful lionesses, each with their own feminine provocation on full display daring any to touch or linger on what was not theirs. It appeared the crown had heard enough, however, as the white tiger excused himself to a lone seat beneath a parasol near the hedge, accompanied only by the double-olive-laden beverage he picked up along the way… and the fox standing behind the nearby table holding a glass of ice water and a plate piled with tiny sandwiches, fruit-kabobs, and jumbo shrimp.

“You gave it your best shot,” John consoled between bites.

“Thanks…” Kristofur forlornly replied as he took a sip of his transparent spirits and then about choked, recoiling from the sudden presence of a fox and nearly spilling his drink, “Jacky!” he hoarsely disbelieved, “What… how…?”

“Please, Kris, call me ‘John’,” John suavely responded as he licked red tanginess from his finger, “‘Jacky’ is my farm name.”

“But this is an  _ exclusive _ event,” the tiger argued in a nigh panic, head whipping around at the numerous other cats that hadn’t seemed to notice, “Vincenzo Corlione  _ only _ invites cats when he visits the Palm Hotel.”

“Don’t worry; I’m not even here,” the fox assured with an easy grin, “So… how did it go?”

Kristofur sighed and glanced about before he set his drink down and continued, “Remember my meeting the other day? It went  _ so _ well that they wanted me to talk with Mr. Corlione himself! Of course, I don’t need to tell  _ you _ that, Mark probably sent you again to keep an eye on me,” he huffed, “Fat lot of good it did, though, I might as well have been a  _ cub _ asking their  _ daddy _ for candy the way it went… I can’t imagine how many favors both Mark  _ and _ my brother had to call in to get my sorry tail through those gates…”

With a belly full of delicious finger-foods and refreshingly clear water, John set his dish down and leaned on the arm of the pool-side chair, “What  _ were  _ you asking him for?”

“You don’t know?” the tiger asked.

“Just give me your approach, what was going through your mind at the time,” the fox explained and wiped his paws on a napkin before tossing it on the plate piled with empty toothpicks and skewers.

Kristofur sighed again and touched his palms together beneath his nose. “As you know, Corlione is…  _ was _ part of an old crime family from the Rainforest District that everyone thought was dead and buried. Well… turns out there’s one son left and he wants to trailblaze into the modern era, rewriting his family’s notorious reputation for one more above board to start ‘building a corporate empire’. I told him what Mark and I are doing, our goals and drives, but… No one knows much about him except that he turns businesses and stocks into  _ solid gold _ , so it’s more like rolling the dice than actually convincing him.

“Every other month he emerges from  _ wherever _ he lives in the Rainforest District and hosts these week-long pool parties which, to get in… to even get a  _ chance _ to talk with him bumps your stock value. All of these cats? It’s like a network of influence that formed in his wake. What  _ I _ tried to do was get his Midass touch for the company… and  _ sure _ , our stock probably got a  _ little _ rise after getting close to him but Mark surely hoped I’d accomplish  _ more _ than that,” the tiger lamented as he ate one of the olives from his drink.

John kept an eye on that lion around which the party orbited… and then smiled. “Here’s the thing, champ: you don’t need  _ him _ to make a great company and honestly you shouldn’t kiss his ring to get it,” and to the striped, inquiring face, “You said that these numerous other power-players are all in his wake, yes? The king’s boon is already upon you, my friend, whatever became of it you  _ spoke _ with him, so go strut your stuff to the lords and ladies of the court.”

The white paws wrung together as the tiger’s jaw clenched. “You’re right… this isn’t anything I haven’t done before… and I know  _ just _ who to talk to,” he finally resolved and downed the rest of his clear drink, “Mark believes in me… Susanna believes in me, too… ‘Let’s make some magic’, as he would say.” The tiger stood chin up, chest out, shoulders squared… and then relaxed with one paw in his pocket to casually stride into the “court”… but he spared a smiling glance at John, who answered him with a thumbs-up.

Replenished in both stamina and spirit by the free refreshments and aiding a new friend (respectively), John considered slipping out to return to his search for employment… but there was something about Corlione that kept drawing his attention. How idiotic it would be to pursue that curiosity into the very  _ heart _ of a lion’s domain, especially one from a crime family (if thought long deceased). “But what if I just…  _ snapped his speedo  _ on my way out the door?” the tod good-naturedly pondered. He’d never met an alpha before since there was nothing so  _ outré _ as an “alpha fox”, and getting away with bugging an alpha  _ lion _ would certainly give him the morale boost he needed to continue his search for an apprenticeship. And what a  _ story _ it would be.

So, John took up the glass stemware to sniff at the former contents… grimaced, and then washed it out before pouring clean water into it and replacing the impaled olive. With a twirl of his aqueous martini, John implemented the same tactics used to acquire his free lunch in the first place: take advantage of the large cats paying little heed to anything below their waist, minimize proximity to anyone whose below-the-waist caught the eye, avoid direct line of sight of the smaller cats, and most importantly of all, act like he belonged there.

It was a harrowing serpentine but John found himself at the alpha’s canopy… or rather,  _ inside  _ it, further than any suited cat he’d seen enter (those that stayed beneath the higher mesh canopies diminishing the harsh sun rather than block it outright). And while the lionesses promptly recoiled to the fox’s amiable presence, Mr. Corlione himself remained statuesque as his head barely inclined towards the uninvited guest. Upon closer inspection, he was fairly young for someone so powerful, even though his mane was rich and full, and his fur had a certain… unnatural sheen as though each individual strand were painstakingly polished. John had observed those that paid homage and knew better than to speak or act first.

“Go on,” Corlione instructed the fox, his finger pausing the nearby, black-suited guards.

“With?” John casually asked, face rising to look the lion dead-on.

“With whatever reason you have for my security to not throw you out by your tail,” the alpha lion said.

“And if it was to bask in your magnificence?” the fox said with a gesturing of his drink and a wry smirk.

“Then your business here is finished, lest you be overwhelmed,” Vincenzo airily decided and lowered his finger.

John took a sip as the guards advanced. “And if I had a question for you?”

“All you’ve  _ had  _ are questions, fox,” the lion said with some degree of annoyance.

A bobcat and a jaguar of intimidating demeanor reached for John… and he slipped past them with insulting ease to stand next to the alpha lion’s lounging couch with a twirl of the olive inside his drink. The lionesses shrunk back but Vincenzo remained as stoic as ever… had not his brow furrowed, lip curled, and tail flicked, he might have been made of bronze. “Surely a business-minded lion -- such as yourself -- would not so readily dismiss a lucrative opportunity, no matter from  _ whom _ it came?” the fox posited.

Corlione snorted derisively and leered as he sat up, “I am  _ very _ careful with whom I conduct business and I do  _ not  _ frivolously trust. Do I  _ look  _ like Memphis King to you?”

The party fell silent except for the music from the speakers, the water from the pool, and the breeze in the palms… had anyone breathed it was muted by the very utterance of the name. So, in casual sincerity and genuine ignorance of the stoking rivalry between the two most powerful lions in the city, and twirl of his aqueous martini, John responded, “Who?”

The towering lion lowered his sunglasses to stare over their rims with bewildered brown eyes… Upon removing them he gestured at the fox and roared with thundering, jolly laughter at such a ridiculous notion as his. John immediately pointed around his drink and joined in the hearty guffaws of a (presumed) shared joke, and then an aftershock shook the party attendants as they, too, laughed along with the alpha lion (Kristofur Pounceski likely joined in as well, if much more nervously should he know  _ who _ was talking with Mr. Corlione).

When the laughter died down, at last, the lion propped up a leg and leaned forward with a wry grin, “And just  _ what _ are you here for, fox?” he said, though perhaps more an endearment than an insult.

“I’m… something of a fortune teller,” that fox explained and leaned an elbow on the edge of the sleek, ocean-blue cushion that rippled beneath the lion in mimicry of the pool.

“Will you be reading my paw or my horoscope?” Vincenzo mocked and then chuckled, holding out his monstrous mitt of a paw, the pads like coarse patches of soil. It seemed that the delicate balance of the party returned to mingling conversations hushed as its participants could watch the alpha lion without directly observing him.

As slick as oil, John hopped onto the lounging bed while handing off his drink to one of the lionesses. “Hold this please; thank  _ you _ ,” he instructed with such suave suddenness that she accepted the glass stemware as politely as could be (and began to wonder why she did). “A little secret about fortune telling, Vinny -- mind if I call you ‘Vinny’? -- is that the paw is but  _ one _ of the many ways to read a mammal,” he explained while pulling that paw into his lap, which to him was something as big as a throw pillow, “Let’s see here… ah! Yes, just as I thought…” he declared and stroked a single clawed finger down a crease of the pad.

“Does it  _ tell _ of great  _ fortune _ ?” Vincenzo teased.

“One stepping stone to it, yes. You see, the callus on this finger here tells me you’re a scholar, since that is where you held a pen for many,  _ many _ years,” John said, setting his sunglasses onto his brow as he inspected the middle digit, “Yet you are no stranger to hard labor involving  _ tools _ , that would make these calluses  _ here _ ,” the fox pointed out.

The lion leaned in a bit closer, a bit curiouser.

“And underneath this artificial bronzing of your fur,” he discreetly continued with a light scraping of his fingertips together for the powder to fall off, “There’s some definite sensitivity caused from  _ bruising _ , no doubt because you hit your thumb with a hammer more than once. Carpentry, no doubt,” John said… and grew silent a bit as he thought of Goliath back in Preds’ Corner… and then flipped the paw over, “As for the knuckles… though adorned with jewels as they are I wonder how often you actually  _ wear _ these rings, especially with the distribution of brawl-related scuffing along your pelt that wouldn’t be there if these crystal studs took any of the impact-”

Vincenzo yanked his paw away and glanced about.

John crossed one leg over the other and leaned on an arm to say, “Your fur is mag _ nificent _ ly groomed, Vinny, but no matter how much you brush and smooth it will always fall in such a way reminiscent of any suited cat out there in that party. It comes from wearing a suit regularly and religiously…” He then reached over to tug at the elastic of his speedo the slightest bit to let it snap on his waist, causing not only  _ him _ but his lionesses and guards to nearly jump from their fur, “Which makes this get-up of yours  _ another  _ facet to your façade. Shall I go into the icy wall of professionalism between you and these lionesses despite the  _ obvious _ implications that they are your mates?”

“Who  _ are _ you?” Vinny demanded under a growl.

“John…  _ Wilde _ ,” the fox swiftly corrected after donning his sunglasses again, and then hopped back onto the ground with both paws in his pockets, looking over his shoulder, “But who are  _ you _ , o ‘lost son of the Corliones’?”

“Someone who can make you disappear.”

“You don’t even know how I  _ a _ ppeared,” John chuckled and half-pivoted to smile up at the frowning lion, “Now, about my ‘lucrative opportunity’… Do you happen to know of Nathan DeCoyote?”

“… _ Yes _ ,” the lion replied doubtfully.

“I’m looking for an apprenticeship.”

“…That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Vincenzo jutted his jaw and studied the smug fox… before wryly smirking himself and donning his own sunglasses again. “Call him this afternoon, after 3 PM. I’ll have put in a good word for you by then,” he said, and then instructed his guard to provide the fox a business card via a snap of his fingers.

John slipped the card into his pocket and tapped his brow in a salute to the again lounging lion surrounded by his lionesses, “Would you mind terribly if I go out the front gate?”

“Please,  _ do _ ,” Vincenzo darkly chuckled and dismissed him with a shoo-ing of his paw.

At last, the party had noticed the red fox strolling past them on his way out… and with a grinning click of his tongue, John winked and pointed at a stiffened Kristofur Pounceski.

* * *

Things were going well. It was almost four-o’-clock and John had an interview with Nathan DeCoyote at the end of the week. He found a five-dollar-bill under a bush and with it, purchased himself some food from a street vendor, and even decided to use some of the leftover change for bus fare, instead of walking all the way back to Conifer District; his sore feet were grateful. John felt he was finally getting used to being a city-fox, even knowing how best to interact with  _ other _ city-foxes (and such shiftier folk) he saw keeping to the shadows, as well as other mammals that either kept a hoof or paw to their possessions and children as he passed.

In fact, it was while he sat on an out-of-the-way, shady bus stop bench in Downtown that he met another city-fox. He was a tall, svelte, handsome sort of fellow rubbing a pear against his shirt as he strolled. John learned that it was actually quite  _ rude _ to initiate greeting or conversation aside from a momentary glance (or even smiling too much), and so did as he usually would and politely nodded at the other tod.

“Quote:” that other tod began and nonchalantly flicked a knife in no specific direction before cutting a slice from the pear, “‘To influence the masses, aim first at the least intelligent,’ unquote,” he said and ate the slice of pear, showing off a shiny gold tooth as he did.

John looked at him from behind his sunglasses… and then put those sunglasses on his head as he thought of a response. “Ah! Quote: ‘Show me your friends and I will show you your future,’ unquote.” The other tod paused in his chewing to stare, to which John explained, “It’s a counterpoint. To influence anyone you must first get to  _ know _ or  _ befriend _ them. By befriending the ‘least intelligent’ your  _ future _ is to become one of them unless you bolster and educate them into intelligence. As a friend, of course.”

He made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff. “No,” the other tod plainly said, “It means that in a city that’s ninety-percent prey, it’s easy to influence them by manipulating the dumbest ones. Doing so will influence those that care about them, brother, and so on until the entirety can be controlled by appealing to the lowest common denominator.”

“Well, that’s… an interesting philosophy you have there… cousin.”

“It’s  _ psychology _ ,” the other fox corrected as he cut off another slice of pear to eat it, “And it’s something I’ve been toying with for  _ quite _ some time now. A pretty delicate process that requires a lot of my attention… Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“Not even the slightest… and I’m told I can be obnoxiously clever when it comes to the intentions of others.”

“Were you born  _ yesterday _ ?” he groaned.

“There’s no reason to be rude-”

“I guess you really  _ are _ a farm-fox, it’s written all over you,” he interrupted with a derisive mouthful of pear and a directing wave of the knife’s point, “Thick shoulders, coarse fur, meaty paws, vacant eyes… Nice suit, by the way, where’d you swipe it from? I’ve been meaning to get a new one for a while, now.” Indeed, his collared shirt, jacket, and slacks had seen better days.

John cleared his throat. “It was not ‘swiped’ but a gift from a friend if you  _ must _ pry. Also, before this ‘quote: “conversation”, unquote’ goes any further, it’s proper manners to offer each other our names. Mine is John Wilde,” he said and offered his paw to shake with whatever he could scrounge up for a polite smile.

He grunted in response and tossed the pear core over his shoulder, talking so that bits of the fruit flew out of his mouth, “Wilde… with an ‘e’?” he asked.

“Yes, actually,” John responded, retracting his paw as the flat of the knife blade came down in an attempt to wipe it off on his sleeve. He scooted along the bench away from the other fox.

A soft munching sounded. “You’re a quick one,” he said and swallowed his pear with a careless waggle of the knife, leering to show that gold tooth again, “Quote: ‘If you tell them a lie, don’t tell a little one, tell a  _ big _ one,’ unquote. It means two things, farm-fox: first, that I’ve been working a  _ doozy _ of a hustle in this city for several years and it’s important to keep it running, or else I lose business.”

John furrowed his brow. “And the second thing?”

“That you told me a  _ big _ lie right now about being a Wilde fox… with an ‘e’,” and then leaned in uncomfortably close to snort at John’s shirt collar, far too close for any casual whiff that was common amongst canine species, “I’m familiar with one fox, one  _ vixen _ of that name and  _ you _ can’t be related to her.”

John arched his furrowed brow and sat upright, grimacing in repulsion. “That golden tooth of yours is likely capping a cracked fang which would make  _ you _ Felix ‘Foxy’ Loxley,” he calmly accused, recalling something Jackie had warned him about the other day, “Why  _ else _ would you deny that Jackie Wilde had any sort of relation than if you knew her intimately?”

Foxy leered a bit more. “So she still thinks about me. How quaint,” he cooed and wiped the blade on his pants leg before folding it in again, “Well,  _ Johnny _ -boy, since you’re not a relative, there’s only one other thing that can make you…”

A touch of blush filled John’s ears despite the situation, “Yes… we tied the knot the other night, as you already deduced. I fully expect to receive the blessing from her guardian and… haven’t yet the pleasure to tell her but she  _ is  _ also a Chronicler-”

“And you took  _ her _ name?  _ Why _ ?”

“For… private reasons that are really none of  _ your _ concern.”

“Well, there goes your lineage, right down the sewer!” Foxy guffawed, and leaned into the scrunching face to say, “Oh, didn’t she tell you? Didn’t you  _ know _ ? How rich! You’ve just anchored yourself to a barren tra-!”

**_CRACK_ **

It echoed off the brick walls, the concrete sidewalk, the asphalt street… and Foxy tumbled right off the bus stop bench, propping himself up to groan and cup where John’s fist collided. If anyone inside the buildings heard, they did not bother to peek out their windows to see what caused it.

“Johnny-boy…” Foxy heaved, shaking as he stood back up and used the bench for balance, “I was starting to like you. I heard about a fox skulking about Sahara Square and thought ‘No, that’s not one of  _ mine _ ’, and then I hear you  _ walked _ out of  _ Corlione’s _ pool party and I  _ knew _ I had to see you for myself…” He chuckled low… cruelly… turning around as he licked the blood from his nose, “I thought ‘That’s got to be the slyest fox in the city, why don’t I know him?’, and then it becomes so  _ clear… _ ”

John’s paw gradually unfurled as Foxy hopped back onto the bench to stand over him, and so rose to meet him gaze-for-gaze with his paws held casually at his back, eyes hooded patiently.

“It’s because you’re actually the  _ biggest _ idiot in the world, brother, thinking you could find any use out of my old conquest…” he mocked, his paw clapping a shoulder, but in a flash the knife’s blade was out and lunging towards John along with a vengeful snarl still bloodied from a lightning jab.

Were John idiotic enough to allow a length of metal to pierce his guts, he would not have shifted and pivoted with silken grace and grasped the extended arm around the wrist to twist it. Likewise, he would not have removed the knife and flung the sharpened point into the bus stop bench while simultaneously bending Foxy’s arm back on itself and forcing the deviant to his knees with a pained yelp. But while John  _ was _ deemed an “idiot” for his brazen adventurousness in the Knottedwood, his slyness was unmatched when it came to dodging death.

“Do you feel that, the tightness in your paw?” John conversed to the frightened whimpering, “At this crucial juncture in our relationship I would like to point out how  _ stupidly _ easy it would be to break every bone in your arm…  _ but _ …”

“B-but…?”

“I’m a bit smarter than that,” John said and with a sweep of his foot, he threw Foxy to the sidewalk, stepping down after him and grabbing onto his tail to drag him over to the nearby sewer grate.

“Wait, wait!” he begged, scrambling for purchase in the gutter.

“Can you swim?”

“S-sort of?”

“You’ll float, at least,” John assured as he lifted the heavy metal grid and swung Foxy about to dangle him over the flowing water below.

Foxy yelled and flailed before curling and pleading, “Just wait a sec, let’s talk about this!”

“Talk about…  _ what _ , exactly?”

“Anything, just ask and I can get it for you. Money? I can get you  _ loads _ of money. Or, umm… the finest foods from-!”

“Foxy, I think you mistake my intentions. This isn’t an interrogation or a bargain; I’m just tossing you into the sewer to be done with you.  _ Bon voyage _ ,  _ et cetera _ ,” he bid and released the scoundrel to a yell and a splash.

A few seconds passed before the other tod bobbed into view with a curse on his lips, “You’ll regret this, John Wilde!” and shook his fist as he was carried off.

“Doubtful,” John determined, donning his sunglasses anew and setting the sewer grate down carefully, “I don’t regret doing what’s right.” He then returned to the bus stop bench to remove the knife from its wood with an effortless tug and flick, thus retracting the blade before tossing it over his shoulder and into the sewer, as well.

In a minor panic, he checked the pockets of his jacket to discover that the thornless red rose he’d purchased for Jackie remained intact, remembering the single strand of hair she plucked from his head their first night… and then secreted it away once more as the bus for Conifer District approached. Things were going well… and if John had any say in the matter, about to get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'The Tweedle Bros.' = Tweedledee & Tweedledum = Dean and Duncan Vandersnatch
> 
> [He huffed some and arched his eyebrows, but then decided to continue, “Papa’s babyfur was smoky-gray, if you can believe it, but he was ‘raised’ in a slum of red foxes -- along with some other refugee predators -- so when his babyfur fell out it was replaced with rich crimson.”  
> The vixen sighed as the tension passed, “Was his mother a gray fox?”]  
> 'Hybrids' are a topic I plan to cover later on in the story. The closer two members of a species are the more likely they can breed; no documented proof exists of predator/prey hybrids. A newborn will be identical in species to the mother with only the barest coloration of the father, depending on his proximity in species to the mother. Upon puberty, the child will develop to closer resemble whichever side of the family they are raised by, within reason; fur color, mane development, and size are the notable changes in a vast majority of hybrids.
> 
> “Midass” is a reference to King Midas, whose ears were turned to that of an ass's.
> 
> Susanna is referenced back in Brave, chapter 1; she is Kristofur's mate and Xander Pounceski’s sister-in-law.
> 
> “I’m… something of a fortune teller,” is a little reference to Robin Hood, when Robin and Little John dress up as soothsayers to swindle King John.
> 
> The “quote: … unquote” lines that Foxy says from the animated short, Chicken Little (1943).
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!


	16. Chapter 16

Substantiating facts come in a variety of mediums depending on how they are experienced. For example, John substantiated his claim of lifelong devotion to Jackie with a single red rose of a marital proposal. Subsequently, Chess substantiated John’s claim that he had an interview with Nathan DeCoyote via… secret channels of communication. The events actually tie together in the Chronicler tradition of two mammals exchanging their vows in the presence of a witness with whom they both hold a strong, mutual trust. As it was, Chess gave John his blessing for Jackie’s paw in mateship after surpassing his expectations of not only finding potential employment but one of such prestige, an accomplishment more indicative of the tod’s skill and cleverness than the position itself. It was later explained to the benefit of Dean, Duncan, and Rocky that John and Jackie were henceforth mated foxes.

Later on that same night, Jackie spoke privately with Chess about whether they’d  _ actually _ exchanged vows in proper Chronicler tradition… to which Chess explained that he assumed Jackie sincerely participated in the (admittedly subtle) ritual since she was as studious in Chronicler tradition as she  _ claimed _ to be. When the vixen hypothetically asked about the process for annulling such a union, Chess further explained that it was hypothetically permitted if it weren’t already consummated -- the order of events was not as important as the intent by those involved. Regardless, Chess further explained that he wouldn’t permit her to succumb to her fear of abandonment by abandoning John, or in other words, to deny that she loved him as much as he loved her. In conclusion, as it was not a union legally bound by the city (for tax, census, and child custody purposes), they were joined only in the eyes of  _ Aslan _ and she should act in accordance with her conscience.

The next morning, Jackie admired the single red rose in its narrow vase as she carried a steaming bowl of oatmeal over to her closet and gently rapped on the door. “John?” she whispered.

John retched into his bucket. “Still here.”

“How are we doing?”

“I’ve suffered worse… don’t ask when, but I have.”

“I brought some breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

Another claim John made was that he had  _ no _ idea what “fox flu” was since  _ no _ one of the Knottedwood ever had it. When Jackie detailed the onset of symptoms to him he was actually relieved to know that he hadn’t caught a “ _ flu _ -flu”, especially after they jumped off a three-story building into a flooded cistern (a harrowing adventure of being chased by ruffians in the riverside streets of Sahara Square after she disguised herself with the jacket folded on his arm). His condition worsened throughout the night despite the overwhelming rapture he felt for their mateship, and he eventually crawled into the darkness of her closet while hugging a bucket.

Jackie had a lot of thinking to do as she stayed next to her closet door. Since John couldn’t sleep but also couldn’t stay awake, she learned more about the Knottedwood from all the stories he told, for it was when he wove a fabulous yarn that he seemed least “afflicted” (as he put it). They were told with such passion and detail that she felt she’d always known them… had lived there herself. John even taught her a few of the lullabies and hymns he knew as a kit; even though he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life he knew the lyrics and rhythm verbatim… it was when Jackie sang, however, that he felt his happiest.

“I do have some good news,” Jackie said through the door.

“I’d appreciate those,” John gurgled back, “Let’s hear them, these news of good.”

“According to Chess, this ‘interview’ with DeCoyote is only a formality.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Apparently, he wanted you as one of his apprentices ever since Corlione referred you,” Jackie explained, “I’m still blown over by that, you know… And you just _walked_ _up_ to him in the middle of his party?”

“More or less.”

“How did you even figure out that would work?”

“In all honesty, Vincenzo Corlione’s name would have kept me  _ well _ -deterred if I knew it at the time. The only reason for my proximity was that I wandered back to where we met, and then saw all the guards around that hotel, and figured that-” he belched and groaned, “that metropolitan palace as fine a place to hide as any.”

“Hiding? From whom?”

“The city,” he coughed and snorted but it did not sound derisive, “The rest of the world… I never understood why those first families sequestered themselves inside somewhere like the Knottedwood… surely, it must have been agony adapting to it only to be-” he heaved, “To be trapped inside for generations… And then I spent a few days in Zootopia and found myself seeking refuge in the most hard-to-access place I could find, knowing that no one  _ else _ could get me there.”

Jackie curled up a bit. “Then… why not return to the Knottedwood with your sister? Surely it’s safer in there than out here…”

“Jackie…” he said, and sounded as though he were right up against the door, “To live without you would be worse by  _ far _ .”

She rubbed at her cheek, just below the eye, and then regained her composure, “But… how did you get Corlione to talk with you at all? He only invites cats to those parties.”

A soft chuckle replied, “As luck would have it, I recognized the voice and musk of someone I met the other day, Kristofur Pounceski…” he then paused to her responding noise, “Do you know him?”

“As much as one knows a neighbor. He and his girlfriend Susanna live on the brighter side of Conifer… he also has a brother named Xander… a little rough around the edges, though.”

“Yes, I recognized the scent of pine needles on you both,” John explained and choked something back, “Anyway, I would have slipped out of the party without so much as turning a single head but… what little I heard about Corlione didn’t match with what I  _ saw _ , and blast me for a fool, if I didn’t want to tug on that alpha-lion’s tail just the  _ littlest _ bit.”

“None of this is leading to him doing you any favors,” she pointed out.

“As it turns out,” the tod continued as he whispered through the door, “I don’t think he’s  _ actually _ a Corlione.”

“What!” Jackie jumped but was then calmed by a series of hushing.

“He might be using the name for its notoriety. Once I hinted at my suspicions and his inability to keep me out of his pool party, I then presented him an easy avenue that benefited us both.” John then gagged and excused himself to retch again.

Meanwhile, Jackie stood and poured him a glass of water, cracked the closet door ajar, and set it within reach.

“Thank you,” he weakly said.

“Did you  _ blackmail _ an alpha-lion pretending to be the heir of a crime syndicate into getting you a job for the biggest tailor in the city?” Jackie rebuked.

“Worse,” John answered after washing down his throat, “I actually have  _ no  _ leverage on him at all because I haven’t the foggiest idea as to his hidden identity, not that anyone would believe me if I  _ did _ . No, I merely challenged his bluff with my own and he blinked.”

Jackie huffed and sat back down to lean on the door. She was glad he couldn’t see her because her face and heart were filled with the sly, guilty pleasure of a fox pulling one over on an alpha-lion and getting away with it. “Well… don’t make a habit out of challenging mammals ten-times your size, John, you’re really starting to grow on me and I wouldn’t want this kit of ours to grow up without a father,” she teased.

John nearly collided with the door. “A… a  _ kit _ ?” he gasped.

She giggled, “It’s just a figure of speech. Even if it  _ were  _ possible it’s only been a few days and there’s no way of telling, even for a fully-functional vixen.”

He groaned and fell back to cradle his bucket. “That was uncalled for, pushing my buttons with such  _ insulting _ ease!” he said with feigned indignation, “Why, this fox-flu could be the death of me before the day is out, and then where would you be?”

“Faced with the most awkward situation of tracking down your sister to tell her that her brother died to a kit’s illness.”

“And wouldn’t that just be poetic… I’d never hear the end of it on the other side; that’s the truth.”

An easy laugh was shared between them before John coughed hoarsely and shuddered. Jackie grimaced and rubbed her chin on a topic that would get him talking again, “Oh! You said you met someone at the bus stop before heading home, didn’t you?”

Groaning first answered before anything distinguishable. “I  _ did _ … He was not a wholly upstanding fellow, however…”

Her brow cinched with worry. “Who?”

John weakly sighed. “I apologize for not saying something  _ sooner _ , my love, but… I seem to have run afoul of one Felix Loxley.”

The vixen took her turn to groan and let her head hit the door. “No…  _ I _ should apologize. I was  _ so _ sure Foxy was done with me and I should have warned you better… He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“He tested my sense of integrity for valuing all life, no matter how insignificant or wicked it might be,” John explained, “ _ Reeked _ to high heaven of ash and hard spirits… came at me with a knife, too,” and then continued after her sharp gasp of surprise, “If after I struck his face…” They were both silent for a bit as the tod heaved and coughed into the bucket, “For him to flaunt such malicious contempt of you was unforgivable and I’d have been  _ no better _ to allow it. So… I tossed him by his tail into the nearby sewer and was done with him.”

Jackie bit back a mixture of concern and swooning at such chivalrous behavior… not that she approved of brutish posturing but it  _ was _ the first time anyone really stood up for her as a vixen. “But he’s not…?”

“Oh, goodness,  _ no _ , Foxy’s still quite alive, last I checked, even functional enough to curse my name before disappearing,” he said.

She did sigh with relief at the result. “So, now I know my mate can and  _ will _ defend my honor… but what about making clothes? As enamored as DeCoyote must be to have an apprentice with Corlione’s backing, I’m sure you’ll need to prove your skill at  _ some  _ point.”

The tod muttered something in acceptance. “My mastery of the needle-and-thread focuses on the  _ mending _ of clothes, whereas I’m still quite the novice in the  _ designing _ or  _ creating _ aspects…” he admitted, “Which actually should be fertile soil for an apprentice.”

“I’m sure Chess won’t mind lending you a few books on the subject to find out how us Zootopians go about it,” Jackie said.

“My love, if I could ask a favor?”

“Anything, anything.”

“Would you be so kind as to draw up a bath? I’m…” he belched, swallowed, and then shuddered, “crusty.”

“I suppose I should help  _ wash  _ you, too.”

“Are you perhaps volunteering your services?”

“Maybe,” she cooed, and picked up the emptied bowl of oatmeal and the plate of a sandwich from his meals that day, “I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

“You have my undying gratitude,” John thanked.

* * *

“You’re quite welcome,” Chess said, “to stay here as long as you need but I will expect some manner of  _ rent _ .”

“Oh  _ really _ , Chess, John and I can share a room without any issue,” Jackie argued.

“ _ Tut tut _ , mate of mine, as soon as I am compensated for my work, I will gladly compensate Chess for his generosity,” John said if still bundled up in a blanket on her bed. The terror of an adult with the fox-flu passed after about four days, an arduous length of time in which John busied himself with reading up on Zootopian history and current events, the finer techniques of sewing and suit-making, and the Mr. Foxglove comic books; when he was able, of course.

Jackie sighed and smiled as she reclined some against her still recovering tod, “Far be it for a lady to interfere in an agreement between gentlemammals, I suppose,” she jabbed, to which Chess chuckled while sitting in her desk chair.

“I  _ do _ have promising news, however,” the wildcat reported with ever the wider grin as he pulled a tri-fold piece of paper from his jacket, “A hit came back on that HIN number.”

Jackie gasped and reached out for the paper to open it up and look at it side-by-side with John. “This is…”

“A destination,” Chess answered.

“For those of us still on the mend: how is this significant?” John asked.

“Not all in the Borough Watch are like our dear Jackie,” the wildcat began, “She is, in fact, an exception to the rule. Most work jobs that provide no direct benefit to the endeavor of rescuing lost youth… Over several years, I’ve managed to connect a network of mammals that spans the city, and with the right information to or from the right professions, I can determine where and when the kidnappers will strike or are hiding. In this specific instance,” Chess continued and lightly flicked the paper, “the boat you identified led us to a marina near the Lion’s Gate shipping yard.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” the tod feigned.

“We work on the fringe, John, filling in the gaps of information and action with the full knowledge that if we cross the threshold then the repercussions of our meddling will be  _ dire _ ,” the hatter elaborated, “Like the astronomer locating a black hole where light  _ isn’t _ , so too must we remain removed from our quarry for our own safety.”

“We haven’t been this close in  _ months _ ,” Jackie added on, “I almost got them once but they abandoned the children they kidnapped instead. We were able to rescue  _ them _ , at least, and I’m hoping we can get that to happen again if we can’t get information on those behind it all.”

John mulled it all over. “I suppose that’s where  _ I _ come in, barreling through that event horizon with the full expectation that I’ll manage to jump back out again.”

“I’m glad you understood the analogy,” Chess smiled.

“I read an article on the national space program,” he boasted.

The wildcat nodded. “As it so happens, you are correct. It’s the same reason why I knew Jackie would be the boon that we’ve been waiting so long for,” he continued with an appropriate gesture, “Foxes… stand apart from most other mammals -- for good  _ and _ ill -- even other small predators, wildcats included,” he said and touched his own chest, looking to the inquisitive tod and vixen, “Every type of mammal is hardwired with survival instincts; this is taught in kindergarten. Small prey have their numbers and empathy while large prey their unparalleled strength. Large predators have their own strength and… what some call an ‘embodiment of death’ through which they fight for life. Small predators, on the other paw,  _ cheat _ death better than any other species.”

John was starry-eyed but Jackie had heard it all before and smiled. “Which also leads to ostracizing,” she picked up, looking to her mate as he inquired of her, “We’re ‘crazy’ and ‘sly’ and left to our own devices we’d slip out of the worst situations, situations that  _ should  _ kill anyone else with no other explanation than ‘that’s just how it works’.”

He sighed with remorse, “Which then leads to suspicion of betrayal or witchcraft, depending on your historical era. I actually have heard this before… and it tends to feed into its own infamy.”

“Any sensible mammal would avoid such vorpal circumstances like the plague… but  _ you _ , John,” Chess said and earned a put-off glance, “You dive in nose-first and emerge unscathed,” he commended. The wildcat leaned in his chair some as he pondered, “This all reminds me of King Richard’s last crusade and a nomadic tribe of foxes that nursed him back from near-death. It’s not one of the  _ favorite  _ stories of him because its moral is ‘When the highest are brought down, they must rely on the lowest to get up again’,” he explained, “It was a lesson of humility, that even lions and kings need a helping paw every now-and-then.”

The nearby foxes exchanged curious expressions. “Can’t say I remember  _ that  _ part of the story,” John wondered, “It was always that he came back because he found out about the betrayal  _ before _ it was too late… at least for his  _ own _ well-being…” he tacked on ruefully.

“Same here,” Jackie agreed as she quirked a significant brow at her father-figure and mentor, “King Richard goes off on a crusade to free enslaved mammals in neighboring kingdoms, finds out that his brother, Prince John, is forging war reports to send him into ambushes so he can usurp the throne, but  _ no _ mention of a ‘nomadic tribe of foxes’…”

“It’s not a popular story amongst the wider cat community either, for stated reasons,” Chess amiably conceded, “Another moral of the story, aside from humility, is to ‘trust your better nature’. King Richard believed with all his heart in the goodness of other mammals, that’s just the type of lion he was, and even if  _ those _ foxes weren’t his subjects they still helped him, but…  _ well… _ ” he petered off.

“‘Don’t trust foxes’ is a common moral in most children’s stories,” Jackie stoically stated.

“Would I be wrong in assuming that this is tied to  _ us _ , somehow?” John asked.

Chess grinned such a grin that the top half of his face looked ready to pop off, “In the story, King Richard was separated from his soldiers by assassins and was almost finished off. Since he was following a slaver caravan on a secreted merchant road, he’d come across the nomadic tribe of foxes I told you about. The assassins were the ‘reinforcements’ promised in a missive, and since they were hired by the Prince and shared in his ambitions, thought to capture those foxes for sale after claiming the king’s head. As his final act, King Richard took up his broken sword and stood between them and the assassins… but it was the  _ foxes _ which saved him.”

“How?” Jackie asked.

“According to the legend, the strongest of the foxes took up staves to disable the assassins and the quickest slung stones to distract them, and for the longest time, I brushed it aside as the merest moonshine… until I heard what a fox from the Knottedwood was capable of,” he smirked, “The nomads were thought weak and helpless;  _ cornered _ , if you will. The details are, regrettably, vague but King Richard spoke with the elder of that tribe, telling him that he intended to defeat his treacherous brother and asked those nomads to fight alongside him.”

“Not likely,” John commented.

“Indeed,  _ not _ ,” Chess concurred, “The nomadic elder told the lion that he and his kin were not warriors… despite the display of prowess he saw. The king was adamant, however, as he was expected to be, and extolled the possibilities if that band of foxes joined him… the elder explained that a single fox can do more than a dozen if it meant saving their own life.”

Both present foxes exchanged a guilty look.

Chess smiled consolingly, “Now now, I’m just about to get to the best part. King Richard said that he was well acquainted with a fox, a niece through marriage and so far as he knew, still living in the castle; he also said that there was another fox he knew  _ of _ , a noble rogue that she’d fallen in love with but the Prince’s usurpation kept them apart. The elder said that the king had all he needed to overthrow his betrayer.”

“Chess…” John said after exchanging another glance with Jackie, if worried, “That is  _ the _ oldest fox story. I didn’t know it was  _ so  _ instrumental to King Richard, but my good cat, you cannot expect Jackie and I to mimic such heroism?”

“I’m with John on this one,” she agreed, “Granted; there  _ is  _ historical data that King Richard had a niece by marriage that was a vixen, which was a  _ tremendous _ scandal as I recall both at the time and for the historians. Maybe the ‘noble rogue’ she loved more than life itself  _ did _ help overthrow the usurping prince, but my goodness, the big cats have been saying that King Richard will return for  _ centuries _ now, something that I’m sure will happen  _ long  _ before Zootopia needs a pair of foxes to save it from its own corruption.”

“Don’t misinterpret my intentions, I  _ will  _ do all that I can to save these kidnapped children,” John assured, “It’s just quite the feat to wrap my brain around the direness of these straits.”

Chess’s grin softened as he folded his paws upon his stomach. “Straits are  _ indeed _ dire, John, and please accept this for the desperate plea that it is: the noblest and most stalwart vanguards have fallen… and so it is up to us ‘lowest’ to do what is right. Unjust laws allow for young mammals to disappear without so much as an investigation and it’s so widespread that the act is an accepted statistic. Jackie knows this and the Borough Watch would be nothing more than bi-weekly therapy for grieving parents without her.”

“So… how  _ am _ I supposed to help in this?” the tod asked, “It was the dumbest luck to pull that boat number out of the air, without which I’d have  _ royally _ mucked everything up.”

“We are all where we need to be when we need to be there,” Chess quoted, “And  _ you _ , oh fox of the Knottedwood, are about to be an apprentice of the most prestigious tailor in the city. Not the  _ best _ ,” he added grimly, “but the DeCoyote line of suits is long-established and exclusive. The ‘network’ I told you about does not reach very high up the skyscraper except for  _ very _ exact circumstances (you’ll understand that I won’t go into them), but DeCoyote is tailor to some of the  _ highest _ mammals in the city.”

John’s eyes widened and brightened a bit, “Do you… want me as a  _ spy _ ?”

The jovial cat whisked his paw dismissively, “ _ No _ , no no no, my good tod, certainly  _ not _ … I only want you to keep your ears, eyes, and nose open while in an advantageous position. A tailor is perhaps one of the  _ most _ trusted individuals in an executive mammal’s life outside of their family and business partners, and you as an  _ assistant _ could be privy to information that would seem inconsequential at first, but prove to be the linchpin in a greater chain of events.

“I imagine you wonder why that boat’s HIN is so important. We, the Borough Watch, had narrowed down three possible sites where  _ ‘they’ _ would next set up their base of operations based on metadata and pattern recognition, but we can only go to the police with one-hundred percent certainty,” Chess explained, “That boat you saw is registered to a mammal in a marina near the Lion’s Gate shipping yard, and it was reported  _ missing  _ scant days before Muddy Swamp by someone of the Lions Gate Watch (someone who kept an eye on boats  _ specifically _ of mammals who were out of town). Your confirmation of its intended use to traffic children is what nixed the other two possible sites I mentioned.”

“That could be  _ any _ coincidence,” the tod argued.

“We’ve seen something like this happen before,” the vixen countered, “The reason why the kidnappers get away with so much of what they do is because  _ they _ work on the fringe, as well, and we could only follow their trails of destruction for the longest time,” she said, “Like Chess said, we figure out how they operate by the clues they leave behind… it always meant that we could only hinder future attempts… but  _ now _ we might actually be able to  _ stop _ them!”

“I suppose this would have been the ‘they were going to be rescued’ you told me about at Muddy Swamp?” John said.

“Exactly.”

He mulled it all over with humming and grunting as the other two patiently awaited his response.

“Well?” Chess asked.

“I’m  _ thinking _ .”

“About whether or not you want to save children?” Jackie said.

“What? Of course, I  _ will _ , I figured that was implied,” he retorted, “I’m thinking about how we’re supposed to get those Supai llamas into DeCoyote’s shop before they leave.”

“The  _ Supais _ ?” Chess inquired, “How do you know about  _ them _ ?”

“They’re the visiting llamas. A friend of mine escaped their captivity about a month ago,” John explained to shocked faces, “He and his newborn daughter, large foxes both. It’s for their sake that I’m looking for the wolf apple.”

“A large fox  _ escaped _ the Supais…?” Chess marveled, his grin returning with gusto, “I should have known that’s why you wanted a wolf apple.”

Jackie looked between them, “I seem to be the only one here unaware of something. I know who the Supai are, they’re drug dealers masquerading behind agriculture and pharmaceutics, and I knew they were in  _ town _ , that’s why I told Rocky to stay away from them…”

John gave a permitting gesture to Chess, to explain, “The large foxes -- or ‘maned wolves’ as I’ve also heard them called -- are the closest kept secrets of the Supais. I’ve only chanced rumors about their operation, but their greatest cash crop is the  _ lobeira _ flower.”

“From which the wolf apple is grown,” John picked up, “the large foxes are the  _ only _ mammals in the world that know how to maintain it because its nutrients are  _ essential _ to their survival… I rather suspect it’s why they were enslaved in the first place.”

“They’re kind of like pandas with bamboo…” Jackie said, and then grew forlorn, “Except…  _ enslaved… _ ”

“I wish I could remember where I heard the rumor, all those years ago…” Chess lamented.

“Well, it’s all true,” John confirmed, “My friend and his daughter are living in a remote area outside of Bunnyburrow and all they need for a peaceful life are wolf apple seeds.”

The wildcat grinned triumphantly, “The Supais aren’t set to leave for another week, or so I’m led to believe. Although, I think it’s certainly possible that they could… need a trip to the tailor before then.  _ You _ will need to curry DeCoyote’s favor one way or another in that short span of time, John, for the Supai family might as well be royalty and he will choose only his  _ finest _ assistant to service them.”

The tod removed the blanket from his head as though it were a hood to sit up proudly. He certainly was looking better than he did when in the severest throes of his illness. “Consider it done. You get those llamas to DeCoyote and I’ll figure out if they brought along any wolf apples.”

“It’s a  _ drastic _ stretch,” Jackie reminded, “but it’s also the only chance we’ve got. As for me, I’ll see about informing the precinct in Lions Gate about the suspected activity,” she then said and gave the tri-fold piece of paper a single flap, “We’ve even got a shipping container number… it must be how they’ve been able to keep things mobile for as long as they have.”

“A slight snag in that plan, my dear,” Chess rued, “I found out last night that the shipping docks are under the temporary jurisdiction of Precinct 1.”

Her ears and tail fell, soon sighing a sigh of such weight that she looked possible of sinking through the bed and floor. Jackie studied the information with a grimacing half-grin, “Well… that makes this a bit trickier, then.”

“I’ll help with that,” John offered, reaching out of his cocoon to wrap a bare arm about her shoulders to lean in and touch his nose upon her cheek, “We’ll manage it together.”

“ _ You _ have to get ready for DeCoyote,” she teased.

“I’ll have him wrapped around my finger by the time I walk in the door,” the tod boasted.

Chess chuckled. “Before I depart, I’d like to gift you something, John, as a small token of gratitude for all your hard work,” he said as he stood, pulling something from the pocket of his jacket, “I heard you’ve become quite the ‘Mr. Foxglove’ fan; you certainly quote him often enough. Well, I happen to know someone in publishing and I managed to get a copy of the newest issue before it hit the stands,” he explained and presented a comic book still in its sleeve.

John gripped Jackie a bit tighter to him as she accepted the gift, wryly smirking as her mate gasped with barely bridled anticipation. They looked at the cover together, “‘Mr. Foxglove and the  _ Gypsy Queen _ ’…?” John wondered aloud and then excitedly hushed, “Quick, open it!” So she did and handed it over, quirking a brow at a smirking Chess as the tod sat back and cracked the comic open… His kit-like exuberance eventually took steps down, down, down to an indignant glower as he skimmed the pages. He threw up his paws and the blanket off him as he held the comic book aloft to cry out to no one in particular, “Sure, let’s just give him  _ magic powers  _ for no reason!”

The wildcat chuckled as he held his belly, “He’s certainly gotten his health back, hasn’t he?”

* * *

Despite all denials and other such claims to the contrary, John was most  _ definitely _ sulking. His head was planted onto Jackie’s pillow, lying listlessly on her bed while she sat at her desk, studying profiles of the numerous police officers of Precinct 1. He did, eventually, “converse” with Jackie about “magic powers” paired with the occasional scoff or “ _ peh _ ”, or how  _ he _ could be “a  _ proper _ Mr. Foxglove” with the right ensemble, and she simply responded with light grunting and humming of continued patience.

“I thought you weren’t sulking?” she pointed out.

“I’m  _ not _ ,” he responded, “but if I  _ were _ it’d be justified.”

Jackie quietly rose from her chair and approached the bed, catching only a flick of his ear before carefully straddling the small of his back to lie atop him, paws slipping under his arms as she rest her chin in the crook of his neck. “It’s not like  _ you _ have ‘magic powers’ or anything,” the vixen coyly remarked.

“They’re not magic and they’re not ‘powers’… they’re honed skills rooted in  _ science _ ,” he responded, hiding the soft trill at the back of his throat, “And I didn’t get mine from some… random… breathtakingly gorgeous vixen that popped up out of  _ nowhere _ … ‘secret, mystic lineage’ my fluffy, red tail…”

“No, you probably just got your heightened magnetic sense from your mother… who lives inside a so-called ‘magnetic forest’ that no one knew hid a village of ancient foxes,” Jackie casually replied, but when John didn’t respond immediately, she took the opportunity to continue, “And you think ‘Angela, the Gypsy Queen’ is gorgeous?”

He kneaded at her bedsheet a bit while his toes idly curled behind him, “Well, that’s how she’s drawn, isn’t it?”

“You’ve got honey glow in your ears,” she whispered.

“Do  _ not _ ,” he denied, ears pinned back as he shifted a bit.

“Do  _ so _ .”

“Well!” he suddenly exclaimed while bounding off the bed, Jackie’s frazzled self clung to him with arms and legs locked, as though a harness as he marched over to the desk, “We’ve got quite a bit of sleuthing to do,” he boldly asserted, and examined the spread of blue-uniformed officers, “What’s all this then?”

When Jackie caught her breath she instead held around his neck while peering over a shoulder, he completely indifferent to her weight, “Chess says that there are good cops in every precinct and I’ve found them in all except Precinct 1. Well… that’s not entirely true because I’ve found a  _ few  _ good cops due to the sheer size of their roster but I also need someone higher up that they can report to. It’s not a problem in most precincts, but Chief Hemion is in Precinct 1 and there’s evidence -- not  _ proof _ , unfortunately -- but evidence that he’s as dirty as they come,” she sighed.

“Mm _ hmm _ ,” John replied and gathered all the photos into a single pile (except Chief Hemion, a proud donkey with a short-cropped mane and tight lips) and shuffled them like a deck of cards, whistling some as he began to pace the room. He drew one and held it up, “These stars on the uniform… they’re indicative of rank, correct?”

“Yes, but…” she then gasped as he flung a grizzly with three stars carelessly into the air, and then hopped off his back to chase after it, “Why-?”

“We’ve got  _ one _ chance to find a good, upstanding officer in the amount of time we have, so it has to count. Since Chief Hemion has  _ four _ stars we can safely assume that his influence affects anyone immediately beneath him, either keeping them in line or in cahoots with his shadowy activities. We’ll look for two-stars and below, for now,” the tod decided, pacing as he flicked another picture over his shoulder, “and if we cannot find anyone  _ ideal _ , then we’ll go for the next best and so on.”

“Hold up, you just threw a two-star away?”

“Look at her badge, it might as well be a lightbulb, and look at the collar of her uniform, you could cut yourself on those corners. She probably waxes that shield and has so much starch in her shirt that she’d smell like mashed potatoes if it gets too humid out,” John explained.

“And that’s a  _ bad _ thing?” Jackie pressed.

“Only if we’re looking for an officer that cares more about the law than their advancement,” he exposited, and then continued on down the line with a curt “No” for each officer until he stopped mid-step to study a svelte, athletic cheetah with a determined yet amiable face, “Promising,” he reported and handed it directly to Jackie.

“Sergeant Clawhauser,” she recalled, “He’s torn up parking tickets before and climbed a tree to retrieve a balloon. Mated and with young cubs… is this the sort of mammal you’re looking for?”

“ _ Very  _ promising,” John relayed, “I was going on first-impressions for these and I really liked his face, a spark for both justice  _ and _ mercy in those eyes of his;  _ very _ important. What’s his story?”

Jackie returned to her desk and flipped through the paperwork there, “Clawhauser… Clawhauser… here we go, ‘Sergeant Daniel Clawhauser’, mated to Mimi, daughters Zelda and Peltra… expecting  _ twins _ , already named as Bellamin and Benjamin…”

“All well and good,” the tod idly dismissed as he fanned out the remaining officers… and flicked another three-star into the air, “How is he with his fellows?”

“Seems like he doubted his ability to be a cop but was convinced to stay on the force by a senior officer-”

“Excellent! A senior that believes in the conviction of his junior; as great a story as any. Who is he?”

“Captain Lawrence Bogo.”

“He was one of the three-stars I threw away, I assume.”

“Not as such… Captain Bogo fell in the line of duty some time ago,” she somberly reported, to which John stopped and bowed his head respectfully as she continued, “There was a lot of controversy about it… Some suspect that Captain Bogo stumbled onto a skeleton in Hemion’s closet; at least, that’s the rumor for those of us in the know,” she shrugged, “He has a son on the force, though, Officer Arthur Bogo.” Jackie flipped through the discarded photos and pulled out a young, blue-gray-furred, black-nosed, perpetually-disgruntled looking Cape buffalo, “Sergeant Clawhauser paid it forward and took his mentor’s son under his wing.”

John grinned such a grin that it might’ve given Chess a run for his money as he tossed the remaining candidates over his shoulder. “And here I was, thinking he wanted to be  _ anything _ but a police officer,” the tod jovially said, collecting both photos to study them, “There’s a story here after all… curiously speaking, is he the late Captain Lawrence’s  _ only _ son?”

“I think he’s the  _ second  _ son, with his older brother a scholar,” Jackie said and pulled out  _ his _ profile, “Arthur enlisted in the military out of high school, served one tour -- holy smokes, he’s a  _ Ranger _ \-- and then he came home and signed up for the ZPD.”

The tod’s eyebrows arched until they nearly flung off his face (which acted inversely to the furrowing of Jackie’s). “I need to see this officer, he might just be  _ the _ one we’re looking for,” John exulted as he skimmed the profile.

“Why is he suddenly so interesting? I mean… aside from the obvious.”

“Someone his age does not lightly go from Ranger to police officer unless he truly believed that he could do more good at home than abroad; a moral code no doubt learned from his father, especially if he, too, sensed there was something amiss in the city. To save us both from my rambling, I’ll just say that he’s got some stellar qualities,” John explained, “Can we see him tonight?”

“We should be able to so long as we’re careful,” Jackie said as she gathered up the photographs and profiles in order to return them to Chess and his “sources”.

“‘Careful’; got it memorized,” he said and tapped his head, and then ran a paw through his mess of fur, “I suppose I should get this groomed… Mr. Foxglove’s pelt is kept tidy, after all.”

“ _ I _ suppose I should wear more than a shirt if we’re hitting the streets,” she cooed.

“ _ My _ shirt, which I would like back.”

“But it’s so comfy~”

* * *

**Elsewhere & Elsewhen…**

Herd Street, Downtown. The empty lot behind a  Graze ‘n’ Greens .

What a long day it was… and Officer Arthur Bogo still had to return to the station to file his reports. Public disorderliness of elephants. Domestic disputes between cougars. A fox shoplifter that dropped their loot and ran. Rats holding raucous parties in the walls between apartments. And then there was the afternoon…

Arthur reached his cruiser and unlocked the door, holding it open as his ears flicked and nostrils flared… So he glanced over a broad shoulder at the inkiness outside the golden aura of the overhead streetlamps and pocketed his keys to slowly grab something  _ else _ on his utility belt… With honed reflexes, he closed the door and fully turned to blast the beam of his  Stagnum flashlight against the building and down its alleyways. Eyes unsuited for the dark narrowed at the aggressive vacancy before he clicked his electronic torch off and reached again for the car door.

Except it was locked.

The buffalo grunted as he tugged on the handle again and then reached for his keys… Panic reared in his mind as he clapped every pocket he could and clicked his flashlight back on to search the ground. “What…?” he uttered in confusion as to  _ where _ or  _ how _ he could have lost them…

His cruiser then revved to life and the window cracked open. Arthur pivoted with a  _ fury _ as the lance of light struck through the window to find… a fox standing in the driver’s seat. A brimmed hat sat on his snout to show only a pearlescent grin surrounded by neatly-groomed crimson-&-cream fur. A rugged, brown overcoat covered his shoulders and arms as he leaned an elbow on the door and minutely adjusted the red tie of his crisp, charcoal suit. “Good evening, Officer Bogo,” he greeted, “Lovely night, isn’t it?”

Arthur jostled the handle again with growing frustration before he glared through the window, “I don’t care who you are, but you will get out of that cruiser or else I’ll-!”

“Call for backup? Bash in the window?” the grinning fox replied and then tapped the glass, “This is bulletproof, my good buffalo, and if you wanted to call for reinforcements I could easily do that for you if the radio on your shoulder isn’t working,” he then turned his head to look at the panel jutting out from the dashboard and its array of buttons, “I’m sure I’ll find the siren if I keep pushing. Or perhaps I could just… go for a  _ drive _ ?”

Black nostrils flared as the buffalo glowered fiercer.

“Fret not, officer, I’m only here to extend an invitation to a… something of a  _ soirée _ ,” he said and pulled from his jacket a tri-folded piece of paper with a paperclip to set it on the dashboard over the steering wheel, “You  _ do _ still dance, don’t you Arthur?”

The buffalo blanched and his face fell at that  _ knowing _ grin. His flashlight clicked off as he recovered and leaned in to say, “Alright,  _ fox _ , tell me who you are and what you  _ really _ want.”

That hat raised the slightest bit to earn a glint of an eye from beneath it. “You can call me… ‘Mr. Foxglove’,” he suavely introduced.

“‘Mr. Foxglove’…?”

“And I can tell by the way you carry yourself that you’ve danced your entire life… up until you enlisted, but that passion still  _ burns _ inside of you. Doesn’t it?”

“Don’t think you know me,” Arthur warned.

“I know that you still polish your hooves every morning, the shine on them is impeccable,” Mr. Foxglove said, “and you also square off the tips, to better stand on them. You became a cop to honor your father and joined the military to serve your country… but you’ve always wanted to be a  _ dancer _ .”

Arthur’s lips pursed as his polished, squared-off hooves shuffled momentarily on the ground. “Last warning, ‘Mr. Foxglove’,” the buffalo then said, if with perhaps not  _ as _ much conviction, “Step out of the cruiser.”

“Oh, certainly, but first… I’d like to see a pirouette.”

Flat, grinding molars clenched as Arthur’s eye twitched at the request.

“Just one,” the fox assured with a single twirl of his finger.

“You can’t be serious,” he grumbled under his breath.

“No one else around to see you.”

The buffalo looked out at the empty darkness… and then snorted to spray steamy breath onto the window.

“If you’d rather call for help… I’m sure you would have done so by now. It does make one wonder if this isn’t the  _ first _ time you’ve locked yourself out of the cruiser. Of course, I could always drive over to the precinct and turn myself in, let them know to credit  _ you _ for the arrest… when you catch up, of course.”

Officer Bogo squared his shoulders and flared his nostrils, tufted tail whisking behind him as he glared with all his might… and then responded through his barricade of teeth, “ _ One _ pirouette.”

“And you have to  _ mean it _ .”

The significantly larger mammal huffed defiantly… but he did take a step back. He held his arms to his chest with only the slightest waver of doubt and rose up onto the tips of his hooves for a momentary, wobbly spin, head jerking around to maintain line-of-sight with the fox.

Mr. Foxglove sighed with disappointment and, likewise, stepped from the window to rake the tips of his claws on the various buttons as the other paw slipped into his pants pocket. “This dishonesty does you a disservice, Arthur,” he informed.

The buffalo cringed as those “gloved” fingers raked  _ too _ close to the siren. “ _ Alright _ , alright…” he conceded and took  _ another _ step back. He centered himself with a breath and kept his arms level at chest height once more… but unlike before he flexed his legs and gracefully sprung up onto the very tip of one hoof as the other bent at the knee. Like a top, he did spin not once, not twice, not even  _ thrice _ but five, no,  _ seven _ times! Arthur landed with perfect poise, legs crossed and heels pointed out, arms extended to each side as he released a sigh and a smile long thought forgotten.

Applause came from overhead to snap the officer from his reverie, gawking up at the vulpine figure standing on the wall surrounding the parking lot. Mr. Foxglove took off his hat to smile with combined dark lips and green eyes in the pale gold glow, and then with a flick of his tail and a flash of his coat, he was gone.

Officer Bogo bolted around to the other side of his still-running cruiser, for it was through the passenger-side door that the fox escaped, and though he intended to make chase he knew that by the time he hopped into the driver’s seat and went through the opening in the wall… that fox would be long gone. Still, Arthur scooted along the seat to put himself behind the wheel, closing the door and buckling himself in to sigh with frustration and humiliation. “Dumb fox…” he grumbled.

He then noticed the “invitation” sitting on the dashboard… glowered… and picked it up. The paperclip was not meant to hold it closed, it seemed, but to secure two photographs inside: himself, and Sergeant Daniel Clawhauser (on which was written a “+1”). “Danny?” Arthur wondered and as he read the information on the paper his eyes widened all the more. It mentioned the Lions Gate Docks… where he knew Chief Hemion would be handling a high-profile operation with only a few,  _ choice _ officers. It had the number of a shipping container  _ and  _ its location, along with a date and time… but no explanation as to what was in it.

There was no reason to believe any of it. No reason to bring it up with Sergeant Clawhauser and every reason to inform Chief Hemion of possible interference. They had their disagreements before, he and Bogo, times when the donkey lambasted the buffalo for abandoning his duties of ticketing parked cars to “play hero”; times when Arthur asked too many questions about paperwork that was just “let through”; times when Hemion shot him a look after the rookie brought certain criminals in.

At the moment… he wasn’t sure whether to trust his own Chief of Police… or a fox that locked him out of his own cruiser. Surely, Officer Bogo would have readily dismissed the whole debacle as some elaborate prank… were it not for what was written on the “invitation”, a phrase that seemed so common and yet so unique at the same time… It reminded him of something his dad said to him when he stood at one of many crossroads in his life: “Arthur, I know you will be a  _ great _ dancer, the greatest the world’s ever seen, but…

**“The world needs good cops.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The legend of King Richard and the two foxes direct references Disney’s "Robin Hood" (the tribe of nomadic foxes is something of my own creation).
> 
> ["...blast me for a fool"] is said by Long John Silver in "Treasure Planet".
> 
> "Fox flu" was brought up much earlier in the story as a regular illness that all fox kits get and overcome, much like chickenpox. It's believed, by Nick and Gideon, to be a severe allergic reaction to Night Howler pollen, which is abundant in Bunny Burrow and carries over on the winds to Zootopia.
> 
> "Chief Hemion" and Bogo's first name as "Arthur" are ideas conceived by my dear friend and fellow author, NieveLion, used in his story ["To Mend a Broken Heart"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18357548/chapters/43465277). "Hemion" is a reference to the taxonomic name for the Asiatic donkey, or "onager", Equus hemionus. "Arthur" is based off an apocryphal translation of the "Seat of Arthur" from Welsh mythology, "Cader Idris", i.e. "Idris Elba", Bogo's voice actor. Be sure to read it all in his story!
> 
> “Sergeant Daniel Clawhauser” is, indeed, Benjamin Clawhauser’s dad and part of the reason he joined the force.
> 
> "...got it memorized" is a teeny reference to Axel from "Kingdom Hearts".
> 
> "pandas and bamboo…" Large foxes/maned wolves and large pandas are similar that the majority of their diets are comprised of a single type of plant, the wolf apple and bamboo, respectively.
> 
> "Stagnum" is a pun off the "magnum" flashlight commonly used by police officers.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I found myself far from the homestead one vernal night, the season's chill thawed and balmy air filling the lungs once more. I needed to run and jump and feel the wind through my fur and mane, dirt under my hooves, and sky overhead. The wife told me time and again that I would end up someone's meal but she always worried about such things; I was too fast for snapping jaws and swiping paws, and anything that dared get too close? Well, they'd find I wasn't some helpless colt... What I hadn't counted on was how many there would be, or their howls echoing off the stars; my heart trembled and my knees buckled to hear that sound fill the valley. Now, I'm a large horse and there isn't a lot that got to me... all the same, tears streamed from my eyes as I wept to those howls piercing my very soul... not from fear but wonder. Never had I heard such a beautiful song... when I managed to dry my eyes I thought I saw those prowling chompers surrounding me, but it was only a trick of the moonlight. I told no one of what happened that night but sometimes I would go running just to chase that song... and I wished on every star I could find just to hear it again... maybe I'll be lucky enough, someday..."
> 
> Olitap al Gaz, Purrsian horse farmer

“‘We need good cops’,” Sergeant Daniel Clawhauser read aloud… or better known as “Danny” since he was out of uniform and “Daddy” since he had a severely tuckered out Peltra nestled into his shoulder, “That’s close to what Larry would say.” He returned the “invitation” back to his friend (Arthur would have been his subordinate, were he in uniform) and crossed one leg over the other as they both sat on the couches of his fourth-story apartment in Downtown.

“Except Dad said ‘ _ the world _ needs good cops’. You don’t think it’s fishy, though?” Arthur asked and tilted his head, much to Zelda’s chagrin.

“Don’t move, Uncle Artie!” she rebuked.

“Sorry,” he immediately responded, staying as still as possible while she braided macramé onto his horns, much to Danny’s amusement.

“Of course I think it’s fishy, Art… and not because it was a fox which gave it to you,” the fatherly cheetah clarified, “But… logically speaking, why would a fox go through so much trouble to pull a prank on  _ you _ ?”

“Apparently I have ‘great reactions’,” Arthur dully quoted, even using his hooves to do so.

“Uncle Artie’s funny,” Zelda giggled, “His nose gets  _ so big _ !”

“Zelda,” Danny hushed, and then continued to the buffalo, “Yet he somehow managed to sneak up on you, swipe your keys, get into the cruiser, and then lock the door… all while you were turning around? This isn’t just some street-fox yanking your tail; this is _elite_ _stuff_ we’re talking here.”

Arthur groaned in approval of the cub-made braid hanging off his horn (Danny looked absolutely starstruck by his daughter’s craft) and watched as she began another one. “That crossed my mind…” he admitted, “I’ve seen elite thieves overseas… or at least seen what they can do… All it takes is for the lights to go out for a  _ second _ and they’ll have burgled you blind,” he said and snapped his hoof-knuckles, “Is it possible that they’ve come to Zootopia?”

“Thiefs are  _ bad _ ,” the young cheetah girl critiqued with a pouting scowl, “but they get caught, don’t they Daddy?”

“That’s right, Lots-o’-Spots,” Danny agreed, “This fox is probably  _ elite _ , like highly trained, but I don’t think he’s  _ an _ elite…”

“You’re hesitating, Danny.”

The cheetah groaned softly and drummed his dull claws on the chair’s arm. “Okay, I  _ might _ have heard about something that happened near the Dead End stop in Sahara last week. A couple of our plainclothes boars chased down a vixen suspect when they were blindsided by this… this  _ dervish _ of red fur; took them all out by himself and unarmed in a matter of seconds. He broke Tuskin’s wrist, George’s jaw, and poor Vitty won’t be able to stand for weeks with the state of her knees; Melks is the only one not getting workers comp and he is  _ not _ happy about it. They figure the two foxes coordinated an ambush.”

“Aren’t they part of the ‘squad’ that answers to Hemion?” Arthur pointed out, his sarcasm well masked.

Danny patiently agreed with a sigh, “I know, I don’t trust them either but they’re no little piglets, Art, and what I’m getting at is this fox shows up out of  _ nowhere _ and trounces them, and then both he and the vixen disappear like a puff of smoke. Now, something I  _ do _ trust is what they said about that fox, that his eyes were blazing green and bloodshot like he was, you know,” he covered the sleeping Peltra’s ears before whispering, “ _ enhanced. _ ”

Arthur reeled (and was promptly chastised by the young weaver on his other horn), “Green eyes? That ‘Mr. Foxglove’ had green eyes… and by ‘enhanced’ you’re not saying…?” he made a hissing sound as he pointed to his neck, as though a medical injector and then lowed as he flexed his arms and bulked out his physique (much to Zelda’s further, if giggling chastisement).

“That  _ is _ what I was hinting at. Granted, it’s some out-there, sci-fi stuff that you’d expect from secret government super-soldiers, but if Tuskin and the rest had their tails handed to them I doubt they’d make up a story about a  _ fox _ doing it,” the cheetah said, “and I really don’t know how else one  _ could. _ ” He then stopped dead in his tracks when Peltra stirred and yawned, her mouth spreading and tongue curling while the fatherly cat was beside himself with admiration at how cute she was in doing so.

“Daddy… can I have some juice?” the youngest of the cheetah cubs sleepily asked.

“Sure thing, Sprinkly-dinkles,” he cooed and set her down in his lap so that he could reach for a smiling-apple sippy cup (even though it had orange juice inside). Danny quietly gleed as his daughter busied herself with drinking before speaking normally to Arthur, “I mean, we  _ are _ talking about a fox calling himself ‘Mr. Foxglove’, it’s no coincidence that there’s a comic book character of the same name.”

“There  _ is _ ?” the buffalo asked before scoffing, “That’s rich.”

“And then there’s the whole…  _ thing _ which happened at Muddy Swamp that same night…”

“Of which I’m not privy to,” Arthur conversationally insinuated.

Danny glanced about and then saccharinely inquired, “Who wants to watch  _ Lambert _ ?” The gold-furred, black-spotted cubs were galvanized, bolting to the TV and bouncing on their tails as their daddy stood and pulled a VHS case from the entertainment center, powered up the set, and inserted the tape for the woolly-maned, blunt-fanged smile of “Lambert the Lion” to appear onscreen. He guffawed and greeted his young audience, who cheered and greeted right back before joining him in the opening theme song. The volume was raised a little higher than usual as the paternal cheetah sat close to the buffalo removing the braids from his horns.

“There was this drug raid on a remote warehouse behind a construction site, right? Well, our boys are in there and they find…” the cheetah then cleared his throat significantly and pointed at both his cubs, to which Arthur frowned incredulously, “used to traffic goods. Everything was going smoothly until…”

“A green-eyed fox?”

“Flies in through the window and wrecks the joint. Again, this is Hemion’s ‘squad’,” he says with masked sarcasm, “but they had tranq-guns and tasers, body-armor, batons… they went in  _ expecting _ trouble. Now… there’s some hearsay that this fox was a… a government agent…” Danny petered off to dully list, “Or a foreign operative, a super mercenary, a bloodwitch-”

“A  _ bloodwitch _ ?”

“Apparently they’re magical foxes,” the cheetah dismissed with a shrug, “I’m sure you’ve also heard about that fox that was seen in Sahara over the past week?”

“That was just someone harassing the shops around there, I thought?”

“He was wearing sunglasses, from what I heard, even at twilight, so no mention of his eye color, but all the shops that called him in were  _ tailors _ ,” he said with an arch of his eyebrows.

Arthur rubbed his chin, “I got a good look at that suit ‘Mr. Foxglove’ wore and it was practically  _ new _ , no signs of wear or tear, as best I can figure, but that can’t really be  _ indicative _ of anything… can it?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“What else do you know, Danny?”

“You know my cousin Darryl has been trying to get into those Corlione pool parties for almost a year now, right? It’s worse than buying tickets to Camelita’s shows. Well, he was turned away at the gate  _ again _ but was around long enough to see a red fox not  _ thrown _ out, but  _ sauntering _ out -- his words. His jaw about hit the pavement!” Danny explained.

_ Arthur’s _ jaw almost hit pavement… by dropping through each floor of the four-story apartment building. “That  _ can’t _ be the same fox,” he doubtfully declared.

“I don’t know, but Darryl found out that the fox spoke with Corlione himself… during which someone heard the name  _ DeCoyote _ .”

“The  _ tailor _ .”

“ _ The _ tailor,” Danny emphasized, “DeCoyote fits suits for the top brass of City Hall  _ and  _ Precinct 1, you know.”

“Could this fox be an  _ assassin _ ?” Arthur asked, lower than ever.

“I don’t know…” he replied and leaned in a bit more with a beckoning curl of his finger, to which the buffalo complied, “But who  _ else _ showed up in town recently?”

Arthur tightened his features. “Those llamas from Reino del Sol… it’s got the city’s llama community  _ petrified  _ with anxiety…”

Danny grimly nodded. “It can’t be a coincidence. The Supais keep their country -- let’s be honest here, their  _ empire _ \-- isolated from the rest of the world, not even their  _ name _ is widely known. And yet they fly in claiming to open up business or whatever, only for some elite fox to show up out of the blue and in a week -- a  _ week _ \-- is bumping elbows with the who’s-who of Zootopia? I’m not buying it.”

A hoof was rubbed behind his horn as his lips smacked in thought. “‘We need good cops’,” he repeated, “He must’ve meant himself and that vixen he was with, or whomever they work for. He knew a  _ lot _ about me, Danny,” Arthur said, “He knew about my being in the military, about my dancing, about Dad…”

“This could be a setup for you to take a fall,” Danny suggested and pointed at the “invitation”.

“There are far more ambitious officers with a lot more to lose than I, even when it comes to Hemion I’m  _ nowhere _ near his biggest nuisance,” he argued, “Dad was always harangued as a goody-two-hooves, ‘Do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do’… they had it made into a plaque on his locker while he was still alive,” and seemed burdened with what he had to say next, “What if… what if this fox needs me to do  _ good _ ?”

The cheetah blinked and arched a severe eyebrow.

“Why else include  _ you _ as my ‘plus-one’?” Arthur asked and gestured to the appropriate photograph and its ‘+1’, “For  _ years _ we’ve thought that Hemion was crooked, haven’t we? But we kept our heads down, just like Dad… and now maybe someone  _ finally  _ has a way to bring that donkey in.”

Danny sighed… but he did not deny it. “What could be big enough to do that, though?” he challenged.

Arthur licked his lips in thought before his eyes brightened, “The Supais… this shipping container could be packed with  _ narcotics _ ! Lions Gate was a hotbed of smuggling before Memphis King started cleaning it up. This could be the ‘business’ that those llamas are doing.”

The spotted face brightened a bit as well as he scratched his cheek, “If that’s the case… then we’ll need someone who can sniff it out.”

“The entire Canine Division is under Hemion’s hoof, last I checked.”

“Not  _ all _ of them…”

“You don’t mean  _ Kela _ ? He’s still on parking meters and not even in the system, yet,” Arthur argued, “It’s already pushing our luck for the two of us without bringing in a rookie.”

“ _ Officer _ Alphonse Kela has more respect for the law than just about anyone else I know; yourself excluded, of course.”

“ _ Pack _ law,” the buffalo corrected, “What if he’s already in cahoots with the rest of the wolves at the precinct?”

“Have you seen how they treat him? He’s less than an omega in their eyes even though his tracking skills are  _ leagues _ ahead of them,” Danny countered, “If we do this, Art, it’ll be without the Chief’s prior knowledge so we had  _ better _ have all our ducks in a row, and if that shipping unit  _ is _ packed with narcotics then Kela will be able to know without opening it.”

Arthur grumped… and huffed… mulled it over… and then sighed. “You’re right, Kela’s our best bet. We should take  _ nothing _ for granted, though,” he punctuated.

“Including mysterious messages from foxes,” the spotted cat casually remarked, “This ‘Mr. Foxglove’ could be from a rival drug cartel for all we know,” he said to Arthur’s muted shock, “We go in and if Kela gives us the nod, we’ll report it; not even Hemion can sweep a shipment of narcotics under the rug. Otherwise, we were never there. Luckily, we’ve still got a few days to prepare for this  _ ‘soirée’ _ , according to your ‘invitation’,” then cheetah then smirked, “We’ll need to brush up on our dance moves.”

* * *

What most surprised Arthur about preparing for their dockyard caper was how readily Alphonse agreed to help; apparently, “If it needs to be done then it  _ will _ be done”. Daniel wasn’t  _ so _ shocked, knowing that wolves are some of, if not  _ the _ most social predator and thus yearn to belong to a pack. Alphonse explained that he already belonged to a pack  _ outside _ the precinct but assumed that he received an order from his superior (and because he wasn’t too trustful of Chief Hemion, either, what little he saw of him). Arthur then countered that there  _ was _ no rank in the showers of the precinct locker room, where the running water hid their clandestine conversation from potential eavesdroppers. He nonetheless thanked the wolf for his help and discretion on their “freelancing”.

It was less than two days before the shipping container would be in its position at Lions Gate. Clawhauser used his connections with the cat community to learn from the dockworker lions, tigers, and similarly  _ large _ felines on how to locate such a box based on its serial. Bogo called upon his training in the Rangers to strategize entry points, routes, and escapes in accordance with what he learned about Hemion’s “operation” and how best to avoid it all; they would need to move fast to get there before any sort of deal was brokered. Kela, who had already taken classes in identifying narcotics through scent at the academy, spent his time habituating his olfactory senses using coffee beans and swatches of clean wool; he didn’t know what he’d find in that shipping container, but he was ready for it. They all were.

The final touch came with the deep evening and them in their plainclothes, badges, and concealed sidearms. Clawhauser’s night vision and speed directed their movements while Kela’s hearing and nose avoided anyone that might be on the lookout. As Bogo suspected, the “deal” was happening well afar from the shipping container (so that it couldn’t be swiped out from under them at an inopportune moment) but not so far to be out of earshot (if the donkey’s iconic, braying laugh was any indication). Likewise, there was the occasional member of Hemion’s “squad” that needed to be neutralized (non-lethally).

All throughout their covert incursion, Bogo kept going over the “invitation” and all that was talked about it, from an “elite fox” to the Supais’ drug empire… something just didn’t sit right but he couldn’t put his hoof on it…

“There,” Clawhauser whispered as Bogo bound-and-gagged an unconscious someone he recognized from the precinct but always got sidelong sneers from… the buffalo decided to also disarm him of the nearby pry bar he’d picked up out of fear. The cheetah pointed to an immense shipping container of rust-orange, easily the length and width of two city buses _. _ “That… is a  _ lot _ of drugs,” he muttered, tongue squarely lodged into his cheek. Its front was accessible by an aisle whose illumination was hindered by the obstructing walls of containers on either side. Readily visible… but out of immediate or even  _ investigative _ sight by the beaten path.

Bogo squinted through the dimness. “I’ll take your word for that,” he said and followed the two glowing-eyed predators, “Why a container so  _ big _ , though, wouldn’t its size be a liability _ … _ ?”

Kela sniffed about, breathing deep and pausing… breathing deep and pausing… repeating but with no less frustration the closer he got. “There should be  _ something _ ,” he doubted, nostrils flaring as he approached the locked door… and  _ what  _ a lock it was, easily capable of holding off an Enforcer. The wolf gently cradled it as he sniffed it… the creases of the door… the hinges… his nose burning with curiosity as he paced the width of the shipping container…

“Kela?” Clawhauser inquired in as low and discreet a tone as his rushing would allow, “If you don’t smell anything then let’s get out of here!”

“I  _ do  _ smell something…” he wavered and pressed his ear to the metal as close as he could, and then barked as quietly as possible, “We have to get it open!” Kela dashed out to grab the pry bar Bogo acquired and thrust it into the lock’s gap to bust it off… which all his might and weight could not achieve.

“Here,” Bogo asserted and reacquired the length of iron to grunt, hooves balled into fists around it as his frame strained against his jacket, a vein creeping out of his shirt and up his neck as his jaws clenched… Had he fired a cannon or lit a bomb it would have thundered less than that lock rupturing beneath his strength. The (slightly bent) pry bar was cast aside so that Bogo’s hooves could wedge through the doors’ gap in the tumultuous, silent wake.

Clawhauser, ever quick, lunged upon the opening latch to throw it off and allow for the shipping container to show what all it had to hide. His night vision told him lies, though… such horrid, putrid lies that he as a father… as a  _ dad _ felt a pain wrench his heart that threatened the integrity of his officer’s steel.

Kela’s nose and ears told him everything he needed to know, the shock softened enough that he retained clarity to reach inside the door and turn on a switch he saw, as though the shipping container were like a mobile warehouse. Electricity buzzed to life, bathing all in a pale light.

Bogo… could only gawk at rows of cages, three that ran the length of the shipping container, one down each wall and the center… as though the aisles and shelves of a store. “Kids…” he finally managed to utter. He’d heard soft noises inside when it was closed and it only confused him until he saw the once sleeping captives… and they began to wake not merely from the noise but the light as well.

“Trouble!” Kela announced, ears twitching and flicking.

“You  _ think _ ?” Bogo responded, still aghast.

“No, trouble’s  _ coming _ !”

“Close the doors and kill that light!” Clawhauser barked, grabbing onto the side he opened to drag it shut again. With a matching whine of metal-on-metal, courtesy of the buffalo, the three cops found themselves in darkness with only the hush of their muted breathing and soft mewls, whimpers, and whines… all unintelligible. “Get ready,” the cheetah ordered and drew his sidearm as he and his fellow law-enforcement stood with their barrels trained on the double doors, prepared to launch an ambush.

There were grown mammals outside, evidently  _ quite  _ confused… and noticing that the lock was broken. And then surprise. Gunfire. Brawling. The frightened children grew louder until it was all quiet again after several eternal minutes. A gentle knocking upon the door launched the plainclothes cops from their pelts. Clawhauser gave a nod to Kela (since he could see him) and so the wolf braced the floor and pushed the great hatch open… all three guns trained on no one except…

Two antelope, a snow leopard, a woodchuck, and a panda bear. All unconscious.

Kela slipped out and swept the area, nostrils flaring and ears swiveling, tail high as he sniffed.

Clawhauser approached the panda and lifted the brim of his hat with a foot. “Louis ‘Loose Change’ Chang…” he identified, a face from the ZPD’s “Least Wanted” for smuggling, insurance fraud, and embezzlement.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” the wolf reported, “One of Chang’s got away: a fox, male.”

“A  _ fox _ ?” Bogo disbelieved and exchanged a glance with his commanding officer.

“Hey,” the cheetah said, kneeling down to examine Chang’s hat, “would you say that this panda is the type to adorn himself with flowers?”

“Not willingly,” the buffalo replied.

“Then I don’t think this one is his,” the spotted cat pointed out, showing a single stalk of small, bright red blossoms, “Unless I’m very much mistaken, this flower is a  _ foxglove _ ,” and looked significantly to Bogo.

“It’s a calling card,” the buffalo huffed as he plucked it from the hat, “ _ Splendid _ .”

“He might have set them up and taken them out,” Clawhauser suggested. Bogo couldn’t dispute such a claim based on the circumstances before him… that perhaps it really was an opportunistic betrayal.

“This fox has three distinct trails leading from here -- doubling-back, old fox trick -- we might still catch him if-” Kela began, but his ears were erect as he looked about, “I hear police sirens… and they’re getting closer.”

“We can’t be here,” Clawhauser ordered.

“But what about-?” Bogo began and swung wide to gesture at the shipping container full of caged children.

“We  _ can’t _ -” the cheetah repeated but with substantially less conviction… perhaps because he had cubs of his own and the thought of losing one was too painful to imagine. Clawhauser growled, “Hoods up,” he instructed, reaching back to tuck his head inside his disguise, “We stay long enough to make sure that those cops are  _ good _ , whoever they are, but we can _ not _ be seen,” and then pulled the scarf around his neck up over his face. As a final touch, he reached down to unbutton the tail-strap of his pants to instead shove the bright gold-and-spotted spinal extension down the leg of his trousers (an old, useful trick for any mammal avoiding identification). Kela and Bogo followed suit with their own tails and hoods (the buffalo had horn-slots to secure before pulling up his scarf).

With the few minutes remaining, the boys from Precinct 1 used the gangster’s belts to bind their arms behind their respective backs; nearly all were out cold except for the groggy panda groaning his discomfort. Bogo rolled him onto his side.

“Chang,” the buffalo said, “Chang!”

“Wha-?” the panda asked, and then flailed a bit, arms straining as he looked about, “Did anyone get the license plate of that truck? Guys?”

“Shut it,” Bogo warned, “Why is that shipping container full of  _ kids _ ?”

His monochromatic face both gawked and twisted with shrewd suspicion, glanced over at the open, whimpering crate, and then smirked, “I guess that makes you… competitors?  _ Vigilantes _ ? No matter, the kids are merchandise-” Chang teased, dark ears flicking when he noticed the encroaching sirens, grimaced, and then flopped back onto the ground with a sigh, “There goes my weekend…”

A hoof wrenched the panda’s shirt to hoist him up, up, high into the air. “What do you mean ‘merchandise’?” he demanded.

The bear writhed some, frightened for a moment but he sucked anything he had to say behind his teeth before forcing himself to calm. “I’ve been roughed up by worse than  _ you _ , calf,” he retorted, “so put me down and let’s talk. You want one of those kids? Totally doable. Maybe I can set you up with a cute ‘little sister’.”

Bogo’s fist drew back like a bolt in a crossbow as he held the chuckling panda aloft… he wasn’t smiling for very long when he noticed the stony fist locked and loaded to collapse his face… A steely grasp held the buffalo’s forearm, though, for Clawhauser stayed his subordinate’s ire with both grip and glare. The panda was dropped and he groaned, wincing and wriggling about on the ground. He winced again when the buffalo knelt and jabbed a knuckled-finger into his face, a face which soon scavenged its smug veneer, “You and your goons are going behind bars, and we’ll find that fox friend of yours-”

“A  _ fox _ ?” Chang suddenly snarled, his fangs appearing from behind dark lips as he struggled to prop himself up onto an elbow, “It all makes sense now… you’re in league with that  _ fox _ ,” he coldly cursed, “Well, Hooves McGee, I’ll be back on the street soon enough after this little  _ setback _ , so you tell that fox if I  _ ever _ catch her poking into my business again, I’ll-!”

“Wait, ‘ _ her _ ’?”

“Her, him, Betty-Jim, I don’t care!” the panda barked, “ _ They _ ’ve been sneaking around my affairs for too long and I  _ will _ catch them.” As the red-and-blue lights finally appeared from around the bend, the panda suddenly fell unconscious again after a well-placed knuckle-sandwich.

Kela and Bogo ran back down an escape route as the cruisers rolled up, Clawhauser staying behind at a corner long enough to catch sight of  _ who _ was called. “South Savannah Precinct,” he reported with such a sigh as though he’d shrugged all the world off his shoulders when a towering, stalwart lioness stepped into view, “That’s Captain Barbara Quiskers, I know her through a friend and we can trust the kids to her,” and then gave the signal to vamoose.

They each un-tucked their tails for easy running and made way back to Clawhauser’s van, hidden beneath a tarp. Both the buffalo and the wolf removed their disguises but stopped dead at the searing glare of their commanding officer as he whipped around on them.

“Quick question: how many plans did we make for tonight?” he quizzed.

Bogo sucked his teeth behind pursed lips to exchange a glance with his fellow officer, “Three plans,  _ sir _ .”

“One for if the container had drugs, one if it didn’t, and one for if we got caught, sir,” Kela elaborated, tail much lower than it was a second ago.

“Okay, three plans,  _ yes _ , I do remember them,” their sergeant continued, suddenly looser in his stance as he put a paw to his hip and tapped his chin in the most unnerving nonchalance, “And which one of those plans involved  _ breaking the lock off the container? _ ” he growled through his parted fangs, black lips pulled back and snout pinched between dagger-shooting eyes.

Both sets of ears of his subordinates pinned back and dark noses dipped, and in Bogo’s case, averted, as well.

“We should be  _ dead _ right now,” he continued, “ _ Riddled _ with bullets because we had to go make a spectacle of ourselves,” the cheetah heaved, “So you should both thank your lucky stars, or Aslan’s mane, or  _ whatever _ you need to grasp just how much of a  _ miracle _ it is that we’re walking away; of our own volition, I might add. Is that understood?”

“Yessir!” they responded in unison.

“That said,” Clawhauser went on, clapping a paw over both his eyes as he turned away, “You both have angels or something looking over you because there are a  _ lot _ of families that’ll be getting their kids back after Quiskers sorts them all out. Maybe we can ask for one more miracle that whoever this -- or  _ these _ foxes are decide that tonight was a one-time thing. You two go home and rest up because I expect to see you both bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at roll call tomorrow.” The cheetah then climbed behind the wheel of his vehicle and buckled up, taking one more moment to wipe his eyes before opening the window and hanging his elbow out.

Bogo grunted doubtfully as the gear audibly shifted into drive, “Sir…?”

“I find that a nice, long walk helps to clear my head,” he sniffed and then smirked, “But tonight, I’m going to crawl into bed with my cubs and not let go. At ease, gents,” he said and off he drove.

Only the police activity, the soft tide beneath the docks, and the distant after-hours noise of the city filled the dark air as Arthur and Alphonse stood behind the towering piles of crates, watching their ride disappear.

Arthur deflated, “I think he’s upset.”

“He could’ve dropped  _ me _ off,” Alphonse dully said.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Don’t be, I agreed to help without asking what it was…” the wolf replied, half-pivoting to face the buffalo, “I’m more put-off that there’s a pet-trade in Zootopia, honestly.”

“ _ Pets _ ?”

“The children in the cages,” Alphonse explained with a thumb tossed over his shoulder, “It’s why my pack left our home country to come here but it looks like it’s  _ so  _ much worse than from where we left.”

“This happened before…” Arthur numbly realized while peering over his shoulder.

“My pack is  _ very _ old and has been around the world, so I hear all sorts of stories from the places they’ve been,” the wolf said as he proceeded to walk along the dock, “there’s one that kept cropping up, though, about how corrupt rulers force those beneath them back into dumb animals to control.”

Arthur promptly followed pace, “But it’s  _ only  _ a story…”

“It’s a lesson. We wolves hold onto histories as told through our howls, like the Law,” he explained, “The lesson of  _ this _ story is that when the strongest fall it’s up to the weakest to save them. Tyrants corrupt or corrode any that could rise against them but they ignore the weakest, assuming that they would never fight back.”

“‘The strongest’, like  _ who _ , exactly?”

“Traditionally, lions and stags, but also elephants, rhinos, tigers, bears…” he petered off and rubbed his neck, “Wolves…”

“Buffaloes, I don’t doubt,” Arthur wondered aloud, “And then the overlooked ‘weakest’ would be…?”

“Mice come to mind, but also rabbits.”

“Foxes?”

“Not as uncommon as some mammals think,” Alphonse answered, “The world is full of legends and heroes;  _ this _ one is kind of… something like an  _ anti- _ legend. It’s probably the one commonality in most cultures that no one ever talks about.”

“Understandable,” Arthur muttered under his breath, “Bunnies and foxes don’t have a lot in the way of heroes.”

“I like foxes and rabbits,” Alphonse argued, “So long as they uphold the law.”

Arthur patiently cleared his throat, “So, getting back to this… ‘pet-trade’ thing. Are those kids… have they  _ devolved _ ?”

Alphonse shrugged and shook his head, “I doubt it. Mammals don’t just go savage, according to my alpha, they’re will is too strong to not think and feel for themselves. Maybe they’ll act on impulse or reflex but they’ll always come back in the end.”

“This is a bit more philosophy than I was expecting tonight,” the buffalo chuckled.

“Same,” the wolf agreed and smiled, but then said, “Arthur… thank you for asking me to help you and Serg-... Danny.”

“You sure you want to thank me? You could have been thrown off the force, arrested, or killed.”

“We did something right, though,” he countered, “And… I’m glad I was there to find those kids. I  _ am _ part of a pack, but Danny wasn’t wrong when he said I want to belong at the precinct.”

Arthur huffed good-naturedly, “We should stick together, then, because if Hemion  _ is  _ involved with a ‘pet-trade’, I can’t imagine how or even if it  _ can  _ be stopped… we’ll need all the help we can get.”

“I’ll talk with my alpha tomorrow, maybe he’ll know what to do,” Alphonse decided as they exited the dockyards of Lions Gate.

* * *

The walk home was long and suffice to say, Arthur’s head was far from clear. He managed to empty it as he hiked Savannah’s sidewalks but it always managed to fill up again. “Pets”, Hemion, foxes… maybe Dad was right all along… maybe something  _ was _ up with City Hall and Precinct 1… something more than back-scratching or -stabbing, depending on who wanted what where and when. What always brought it back into his mind was “pets”. His younger sister had a pet bird… it lived for a good long while and she loved it dearly. Arthur then imagined a squirrel child he saw from the shipping container, perched upon the birdcage swing and singing like a canary. He held his head and braced against the nearby wall, hoof trembling into the brick.

It was 3 AM when Arthur arrived on the city block of his apartment building and trudged alone down the sidewalk and alleys. He reached for the keys in his pocket for entry into the lobby… and paused as, for some inexplicable reason he thought he smelled a  _ fox _ . Foxes weren’t common in that part of town or any ungulate community… unless they were up to mischief. Arthur remembered something he thought he saw in the adjacent alleyway and so returned to investigate. His horned head peeked around the corner, past the trash cans and the dumpsters, the cardboard boxes and fire escape ladders, to the shack at the very end with its spastic light, always flickering… and at the figure bathing in its neurotic beam: a patiently sitting, slyly grinning vixen.

The curve of her physique was unmistakable and the bareness of her crossed legs spoke of refinement and acumen broadcast in her posture and the folded paws atop her knee. She wore a crisp, lady’s business attire of a midnight blue with a skirt that hugged around beckoning,  _ daring  _ thighs and hips. She, too, boasted a hat that covered her eyes so only the obsidian glint of her lips, the rose red-&-white of her fur, and the alabaster points of her fangs were visible; her hat, however, had a single, grayish feather sticking up from the band. “Good evening, Officer Bogo,” she greeted, “Lovely night, isn’t it?”

Arthur approached until he was halfway down the alley, the shed’s glow barely touching his polished, squared-off hooves, “ _ Mrs _ . Foxglove, I presume?”

“I believe  _ kudos _ are in order,” she said, her tail wheeling behind her one way and then reversed.

“It wasn’t a hard leap of logic.”

“You give yourself too little credit,” Mrs. Foxglove responded, uncrossing her legs to re-cross them the other way, paws unfolding from the knee to instead brace the shed’s roof as she leaned forward the slightest bit, “Those kids would be lost if not for you.”

His shoulders tensed and jaw set, brow flat as a board as he looked up at the vixen, “Did you know what was in there?”

“Of course,” she answered, “It’s why we chose  _ you _ to save them.”

“Why  _ me _ ?”

“No one else could that would or would that could.”

“…”

The vixen sat erect and folded her paws upon her knees again, her smile much softer, “You remain anonymous, Arthur, as do Alphonse and Daniel; neither Captain Quiskers nor Louis Chang knows who was at the docks tonight… and all Chief Hemion will know is that his deal fell through,” the vixen reported, “But now, a crossroads lies before you: to keep your head down and pretend that it never happened… or look up and walk that treacherous path to the  _ true _ Zootopia.”

Arthur took a step forward, eyes never leaving the vixen on the shed’s roof. “The ‘ _ true _ Zootopia’…” he challenged, “A city that trades in children as  _ pets _ ? Where criminals strut out of an illusory justice system?  _ That _ city?”

“A city where ‘anyone can be anything’,” Mrs. Foxglove reminded, “not what it has  _ become _ . The strong have not yet fallen, Arthur…  _ you _ still stand.”

“I got lucky tonight,” he argued, advancing again until his face was visible in the flickering light; he was pensive and filled with doubt… “If I  _ did _ ‘look up’, it would mean going against Precinct 1… City Hall… nothing less than  _ rebellion _ from the farms to the penthouses. What hope is there to accomplish  _ that _ ?”

Her tail slowly wheeled again. “Hope was in the eyes of those children tonight. Think back… you saw it, didn’t you? Though faint, there was a gleam of hope that things would get better.”

His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, lips pursing as his nostrils flared, brow un-cinching as he did, indeed, recall those shining eyes inside the cages… he was not remiss to admit that it took all his strength to remain standing back then. “Okay, so  _ maybe _ there’s hope,” he grumbled, glower returning (however minimally) to mask his own glimmer thereof, “for whatever good it’ll do.”

“Rebellions are  _ built  _ on hope,” Mrs. Foxglove said with a smile, and reached up to tilt her hat back far enough to show the bright brown eyes beneath with a wily trick of the light that gave them a glint of green, “and it’s up to  _ us _ to do whatever good is needed. Fairfarren, Officer Bogo.” 

“Wait, I didn’t give my answer!” he beseeched but the flickering light went out for half-a-second, all the time she needed to vanish despite his eyes madly scanning for her. Arthur’s broad shoulders sagged… worrying that he, in fact,  _ did _ give an answer… And so, the buffalo pocketed his hooves to turn and trudge out of the alleyway, muttering under his breath, “Dumb fox…” and then paused to glimpse over his shoulder at the spot where she was, “But ‘good night’ to you, too.”

**_Breaking News:_ **

_ “Good evening, I’m Peter Moosebridge filling in for Gnawlton Nash. Late last night, the South Savannah Precinct apprehended notorious smuggler and embezzler, Louis ‘Loose Change’ Chang at the Lions Gate shipping yard. Chang was caught in possession of a shipping container filled end-to-end with caged children, many of whom have since been identified in missing mammal cases stretching as far back as three years. Memphis King, owner of the shipping yard, was quick to respond to the discovered children by teaming up with mammalitarian group,  _ _ Doctors Without Species _ _ to aid the ZPD and ensure that the children are safely housed until they can be returned to their families.  _ _ Doctors _ _ spokesmammal, Leodore Lionheart will soon be joining us over the phone…” _

Every paper and TV screen was plastered with headlines and announcements about missing children “found at last”. Radio talk shows either sang the ZPD’s praises or wondered “what took them so long to do their jobs”. The grapevine was  _ electric _ with speculation and hearsay. “Loose Change” was thrown to the vultures, as it were, and painted as the worst villain to ever darken Zootopia’s hallowed streets. He was found “dancing the gallows jig” in his cell after his arrest with a note begging redemption for a life of evil. Bogo didn’t believe it was suicide… but it was his day off and didn’t want to tempt fate by  _ ensuring _ a target on his back.

“Art’ur, my brudder off anot’er utter,” the yak running the newsstand said and then dropped the exaggeration of his accent after reaching out to bump knuckles with the Cape buffalo, “Please tell me you’ve got something else to talk about besides Lions Gate,” he pleaded, tucking his gum under his tongue as he reached behind the display, “Oh, I’ve got your usual, coming right up.”

“Liq, charming as always,” he chuckled and exchanged payment for the morning edition of the  Zootopian Times and a granola-&-grass bar, “Don’t expect it go away after only a few days, it’ll be the top story for a few  _ weeks _ , at least.”

“Ain’t it the truth…”

“I did have a question about comic books, though,” Arthur said, looking over at the assortment off to the side.

Liq chuckled, “Yeah? Didn’t think you the comic-type, big serious cop like you but I guess that goes to show, doesn’t it? You’re welcome to browse, brother, but remember…”

“‘This ain’t a library’,” the buffalo laughed, “If you’ve said it once, you’ve said it a thousand times. I’m actually looking for a specific one: ‘Mr. Foxglove’.”

The shaggy eyebrows tilted as Liq’s jaw sagged a bit, tongue moving about inside his mouth to work the wad of gum back between his teeth, and then returned it to its storage, “It’s over there, in the back. I don’t order ‘em, they just seem to pop in whenever they feel like. It gives the shifty kits something to look at other than the rest of my stuff and if they walk off with it, then no loss to me. What’s the interest, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Art scratched his chin and then leaned in to whisper, “Investigation,” and winked.

The yak’s eyes widened enough to show from behind his curtain of bangs, glanced about, and then nodded at the rack, “You help yourself, then,” he said with a smirk, “No loss to me, as I said.”

“Peace,” Bogo said with a nod, and meandered over to the comic books… sure enough, there in the back was ‘Mr. Foxglove’, the newest issue. The buffalo walked past to tuck it into his morning paper and then went off to read.

In a nice, quiet place beneath the Savannah Central Train station, Arthur opened up the news rag with the comic book in its fold and then took a bite of his breakfast to examine the cover. “Mr. Foxglove & the Gypsy Queen,” the buffalo read to himself, scoffing at the richness of a scantily-clad vixen in vivacious (if rustic) dress with obvious magic sparking from her claw-tips and a suit-clad Mr. Foxglove’s silhouette standing suavely in the background with a faint glow of his eyes to mimic the mystic presence. He knew nothing about whoever these characters were, or even if the “Mr. Foxglove” he saw last week was only borrowing the name and general description. And so, he continued to read.

What piqued Arthur’s curiosity (and suspicion) was the mention of an abandoned warehouse. While not at all unique in the world of noir, comic books, or stories in general, the interesting fact is that what led Mr. Foxglove there was the mysterious disappearance of all the kits of a gypsy caravan passing through the outskirts of the city. Apparently, Mr. Foxglove was the only one willing to hear the case about missing gypsy children and so went to investigate, and along the way wooed the vixen, Angela, that hired him (who  _ also _ went missing soon after). What he  _ found _ was (and this is the part that Arthur had to stop reading just to blink at the page) ritualistic child sacrifice to summon some demon-lord or other. Were he an avid reader of “Mr. Foxglove” it might not have made  _ any  _ sense in context to previous adventures, much less everything leading up to that “plot twist”.

Nevertheless, the story continued with Mr. Foxglove infiltrating the warehouse, sneaking past the goons, and stopping the ritual before any of the kits could be sacrificed, thus freeing them and the vixen also captured. As it turned out (piquing Arthur’s curiosity and suspicion once again), Angela was a “bloodwitch” and  _ blah blah blah _ “ethereal conduit”  _ yada yada yada _ “nexus of power”,  _ et cetera et cetera _ , giant magical explosion. It all unlocked supernal reflexes, strength, perception, and endurance in Mr. Foxglove, along with fleeting glimpses of the “Arkashic Records”, a mystical compendium of all the world’s history and everyone therein. The fox detective and his wheeling tail proceeded to dodge bullets, foresee attacks, and throw mammals five times his size around like bean bags, thus saving the gypsy kits and the city from a horrible, Abyssal fate.

Three mental notes that Arthur made about the fantastical issue was that, firstly, after the whole magical event all the pages were full color rather than the gritty noir that it began in; and secondly, though for only a single panel, Mr. Foxglove’s eyes flashed brilliant green before returning to their usual brown.

“‘The Tweedle Bros.’, huh?” Arthur read on the last page of the comic book in the artist and author credits, along with a Ficus Grove P.O. box and the following line, which was the third mental note that the buffalo made:

**_Mr. & Mrs. Foxglove will return…_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lambert the Sheepish Lion" is a Disney animated short film from 1952 about a lion raised by sheep. In this story, he is a children's show icon developed as a prey-friendly predator.
> 
> Alphonse Kela is the present-day captain of the Canine Division which includes the wolf pack of Precinct 1. He was first mentioned back in Brave and is a reference to Akela from "The Jungle Book".
> 
> [habituating his olfactory senses using coffee beans and dry wool] Smell coffee beans or dry wool helps clear your nose's smell-sensors, which is why there are coffee beans in perfume shops.
> 
> [Captain Barbara Quiskers] "Barbara" is a reference to the large, prehistoric species of "Barbary Lion", and "Quiskers" rhymes with "whiskers". Any similarities of either her or Louis "Loose Change" Chang with existing characters or persons, whether fictional or real, is purely coincidental. It's a shame that I couldn't do more with Loose Change, he seems like such an interesting character... Maybe if I did a vignette exploring more of Jackie's adventures, have them clash a bit more...
> 
> "Rebellions are built on hope" comes from "Rogue One".
> 
> The imagery here of Jackie Wilde/Mrs. Foxglove was inspired by Marvel's Agent Peggy Carter.
> 
> Peter Moosebridge is the co-anchor for ZNN in the movie and based on Peter Mansbridge. Additionally, Gnawlton Nash is a beaver co-anchor based on Knowlton Nash. Both he and Mansbridge are Canadian and it was 30 years ago that Mansbridge took over for Nash, so this is doubly appropriate.
> 
> "Doctors Without Species" is based on "Doctors Without Borders", an idea cooked up by my friend NieveLion and I, and used in his story "To Mend a Broken Hart". "Mammalitarian" is this world's word for "humanitarian" and means pretty much the same thing.
> 
> [thrown to the cultures] is a phrase analogous to "thrown to the wolves" or "thrown under the bus" and left for scavengers.
> 
> "Arkashic Records" is a play-on-words of the "Akashic Records" from Edgar Cayce fame and "Noah's Ark" from the Bible, sort of combining the two to be a divine archive of all the animals in the world, rather than humans. It's also worth noting that Noah's Ark was depicted in Disney's "Fantasia 2000".
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~"Calloo-callay, come Judgment Day!" sing cabbages and kings!!~

“Success!

“Victory!

“An achievement for the ages!” John went on, “And soon enough, Chief Hemion will receive his just comeuppance.”

Chess paid him a sidelong glance.

“Too right, ‘eh Chess?”

“All except for the ‘soon enough’ part, yes,” the wildcat corrected, relaxing where he sat.

The fox leaned forward to brace his knees, “Give it a week,  _ maybe  _ two but-”

“John,” Chess sighed, “commendable through your enthusiasm and idealism might be, I’m afraid that Chief Hemion will  _ not _ be maligned by what happened at Lions Gate.”

“But… he was  _ there _ ,” John argued aghast, “I heard his braying guffaws as clear as a bell.”

“As did Bogo, Clawhauser, and Kela, I’m sure,” Chess consoled, “How _ ever _ , there was no clear line-of-shot for Jackie to photograph his exchange with Louis Chang, ergo, no  _ proof  _ of wrongdoing; not that Hemion would allow Chang or any of his riffraff to snitch on him, as we found out today,” he darkly extrapolated, and then ruminated, “As it stands, the Changs were the only family in the city keeping the Bigs in Little Rodentia and the Koslovs in Tundratown… so I suppose we’ll find out what’s to happen now that the third leg of  _ that  _ stool is crippled…” He sighed again and patted a towel to his neck.

“And he just skates off, merrily braying all the while?”

“As he does. Hemion’s been at this game a  _ long _ while and one setback like Lions Gate will  _ not _ be what brings him in,” Chess explained, “So long as there is a Waters behind the mayor’s desk, that donkey remains untouchable.”

John recalled the hippo, Mayor Maximillion Waters and grumbled, “Maybe we should focus our efforts on  _ him _ , then…”

Chess sat up and lay the towel aside. “I thought you brought yourself up to speed on current events,” the wildcat kindly rebuked, “We are on our  _ third _ generation mayor and his son Joey is already being groomed for ‘election’ after him,” he air-quoted, “like his father before and  _ his  _ mother before  _ him _ . As they say, ‘The Waters will  _ never  _ run dry in Zootopia’.”

The fox grumbled and propped up his heaviest pout, needing both paws to accomplish such a task, “I hate politics…”

“I never cared for it much myself,” Chess jovially concurred, “This  _ is _ still a cause for celebration, even if we are no closer to catching the villains who’ve made the disappearance of this city’s young a grim inevitability;  _ dozens _ upon  _ dozens _ of children were saved, some thought lost forever. The dark claws of Underland have overreached only to feel justice’s blade, and now, there  _ is _ a fight to be had and the Watches of Zootopia know it.”

A smile cracked through John’s persistent disgruntlement as he sat up and stretched his back, “All in a day’s work.”

Light chuckling preceded and mingled with the wildcat’s response, “Don’t sell yourself short, my good tod, what you accomplished with Officer Bogo is nothing less than inspired.”

His ‘gloved’ paw waved dismissively. “I would have completely discounted him if not for Jackie. My original plan was to go for Clawhauser which, thinking on it now, might have only resulted in his solo investigation _after_ the fact… and might very well have landed him neck-deep in trouble. What I saw in Bogo, though…” John recalled, “I could tell from the moment Jackie and I tailed him: he _loves_ to dance, it radiated out of every fiber of his being from the rise of his chin to the squared-off tips of his hooves; that was a buffalo with a passion, something he worked his whole life for. Add in his father’s ‘mysterious death’ in the line of duty, an _obvious_ upholding of justice, and an older brother that _wasn’t_ a cop… then surely, _surely_ Arthur must have joined the ZPD for something greater than himself… which is exactly the kind of ally we need. And if I knew Officer Kela was in Precinct 1, I would have chosen _him_ ,” John laughed good-naturedly, “Although I doubt he would have done as well as Art…”

“Bogo’s military training and brute strength were ‘key’ to the operation, from what I hear,” Chess mused.

Once more John was overcome with laughter. “ _ ‘Key’ _ ! Because he popped the crate’s lock off,” the fox pointed out.

“I must say, your talents and intuition as a scout are most helpful,” the wildcat commended.

John’s eyes brightened and breath caught. “I’ve always  _ wanted _ to be a Scout for the Knottedwood,” he said behind cupped paws, “but they said I wasn’t ‘responsible enough’.”

“Well… I meant a  _ talent _ scout,” Chess corrected with a chuckle, “Not only did you find  _ three  _ good cops in Precinct 1 and enlisted them into the fight (whether they truly know it or not), but also a rather gifted tinkerer in young Rocky-”

“And Grooper.”

“And Grooper, yes,” Chess amicably conceded, “I’ll never know how he hijacked Captain Quisker’s radio from three blocks away, but thanks to his clever hijinks we could not have asked for a quicker response time from the Lions Gate ZPD, and he fixed that  _ awful _ buzzing in my reading lamp,” and while the wildcat’s smile remained, it grew quite a bit sterner as he closed his eyes, “I’ll need to teach him some moral integrity so to prove himself as an invaluable Rescuer and guardian of the neighborhood, of course.”

John solemnly nodded as the wildcat settled back into his seat. “Hey Chess… you’ve been at this for quite a long while, haven’t you… Do you… do you look forward to when it’s all said and done? If you don’t mind my asking, I mean.”

Chess did not immediately respond and his eyes did not open when he did, “John, do you know the difference between a hero and a fiend?”

The fox pondered a moment and with a snap of his fingers, eagerly sat forward, “I remember this riddle: a hero fights as though it is their last, a fiend fights as though it is their first.”

“Correct,” the grinning wildcat replied and peeked open his eyes to focus on nothing in specific, “The former can stop fighting; the latter cannot. My only goal in life is to live long enough to see the last battle won.”

Another solemn nod was paired with a thoughtful hum, “I suppose some long-term plans of my residency wouldn’t go amiss,” John wondered aloud, and then caught a yelp between clenched jaws at the sudden bright-eyed stare and toothy grin of the wildcat.

“Which reminds me,” Chess said, “You’ll need a new identity.”

“I…  _ will _ ?”

“Oh, yes, undoubtedly,” he continued, sitting up a bit more with a rub of his chin, “‘Jacky Savage’, shall we say, must step aside for ‘John Wilde’. That actually makes things  _ much _ easier for me, since I know of a ‘John Wild’ that went…  _ missing _ some many years ago. It’s a common name even though his was without an ‘e’; only a  _ minor _ inconsistency.”

“What happened to him?” John probed.

Rather than devolve into a frown, Chess’s grin grew all the more dramatic, “He joined the Watch but was bought-and-sold by those that keep Pleasure Island afloat… I do not take kindly to betrayal… not very Chronicler of me, I’ll admit…”

“There are times when no good options present themselves.”

Chess sighed and sat back again, “I’ll live with those decisions for the rest of my life and will have plenty to answer for on the other side of Eternity. For now, John-Wild-without-an-’e’ won’t mind us using some of his past information, I’m sure. He was a fox and an orphan, a common circumstance to go with a common name… maybe he was abandoned, I can’t recall… very little known about him…” the wildcat considered,

“‘Tis from the mist we came, so to the mist we go;

If in glory or shame, only Aslan will know.”

“Won’t it be suspicious that ‘John Wild’ -- ‘e’ or not -- just popped up after a sabbatical from life?”

“Oh, certainly,” he softly replied, “but there are families in the Conifer Watch that are beside themselves with gratitude to have their children back again… if you are willing to employ your silver tongue and tug a string or two, I’m sure they’ll happily swear that you’ve lived in their neighborhood for  _ years _ .”

“That’s… awfully manipulative, Chess…”

“I know,” he stated matter-of-factly, “Alternatively, you might decide to be wholly upfront with who you are and explain what the Knottedwood is.”

John put his chin in a palm. “No one would ever believe it.”

“ _ I _ wouldn’t,” Chess unabashedly admitted, and then began to lament, “Our current situation affords a razor-thin margin of error at the best of times… we take any advantage we can get… so long as we stay true to our principles, otherwise it would all be for naught.”

“…This cannot be done lightly, my friend, so I shall discuss it with Jackie first. Goodness knows, I act far too often with consideration only to the resolution but not the consequences,” he determined, “even if it  _ does _ turn out for the better.”

“One might even say that you are an exceptionally lucky fox, to be in the right place at the right time,” Chess teased, “aside from that bus almost hitting you today, at least.”

“After I slipped on a newspaper.”

“Across wet cement, wasn’t it?”

“Someone took a blind swing at me with their cane and one thing lead to another,” the fox chuckled, “No one was hurt and I didn’t get any cement on my suit, though, which is the important thing.”

“Not a mammal who’s seen you can deny that you know how to think on your feet,” Chess purred, “Speaking of, you’ve been remarkably avoidant about your interview with DeCoyote. I assume it went well?”

“It went…  _ as _ well as one could hope. I kept him on the edge of his seat with the story about the bus, as it turns out, and then he asked if I was the fox getting around Sahara Square last week, the details of which I downplayed; of course, he swooned over my conversation with Corlione… with more downplayed details. More than anything, it felt like we were shooting the breeze than conducting an actual interview,” John recalled and wrung his paws some, “At least the backhanded compliments and endearments were followed up by claims of teasing or friendly ribbing. It’s really not anything  _ new _ , back in the Knottedwood I was commended for things that surely didn’t need mentioning. Plus, my inductions were perceived as the parlor tricks that they’re meant to be… so long as they weren’t about  _ him _ . Even his apprentices enjoyed my jokes and stories; not that it detracted from my head-spinning proximity to complete and utter  _ failure _ if I mispronounced his name even  _ once _ ,” the fox heaved.

“Yes, he is very sensitive about that,” Chess mused, recalling how he turned away prestigious clients who mispronounced his name “Dee-Khy-Yoh-Tee” rather than “Day-Coh-Yoh-Tay”.

“Had I seen his name written before hearing it spoken, I’d have been up a creek, Corlione’s good word or no,” John huffed and clapped his knees while the wildcat enjoyed a soft chuckle, “I’ll admit, I was surprised to find out that he was as nervous as the rest of the city about the visiting Supais, even though he is  _ also  _ a llama… should be something of a shock when one shows up in the next few days.”

The toothy grin curled a bit more, “The sabotage of the elder Supai son’s jacket is already underway, so it’s only a matter of time, if my skill with a stitch is worth the living I make of it,” and then flicked a clawed finger at the air, “One little incision is all it took… and all I had time for.

“By-the-by,” he continued, paws folded atop his pillowy paunch, “My sources tell me that you’ve attracted some attention with your -- shall we say --  _ extra effort _ in recent days, particularly from a certain buffalo (who shall remain unnamed). Don’t be surprised if he pokes around DeCoyote’s shop at some point.”

John rubbed the knuckles of his paw. “I shall endeavor to keep my nose open, then; thank you.”

“You’ll have alibis and eye-witnesses ready for  _ that night _ ,” Chess insinuated with an especially sharp glint in his eye, “So do what you do best and tell a convincing story… and be sure to stick with it, of course.”

“Of course,” John assured with as best a smile as he could manage, which only ever paled in comparison to the wildcat’s at the best of times. He patted at his bare flank and rubbed through the fur a bit, “I think I’m sufficiently dried,” the fox mentioned and then stood to wrap a towel around his waist.

Chess checked at the fuzz on his chest, “Same. Word of advice, John: never underestimate the privacy afforded by a comfortable drying-room with a noisy fan,” he chuckled, standing and likewise toweling himself for modesty’s sake before he clicked off the overhead mechanical air-mover. They then exited a standard room of any mammalian household that practiced bodily hygiene on a regular basis since their fur had, as stated, sufficiently dried.

“I did wonder why you forbade Rocky from fixing that,” John mused, “You’ll be pleased to know that Jackie actually got him into the bath.”

“Yes, quite the surprise!” Chess laughed, “I’ve never known her to have a way with kits, despite investing every fiber of her being into rescuing them, but that vixen took to him as if he were her own son or baby brother.”

John beamed as they proceeded to don their evening clothes. “Like when Rocky shocked himself on a wire, Jackie  _ bolted  _ up into the crawl space to make sure he was alright,” he recalled, “and I daresay he’s equally taken to her. I haven’t told her yet but I’m thinking that if we decide to stay in the city instead of travel the world, we’ll adopt a kit or three, give her that big family she’s always dreamed of.”

The wildcat smirked, “You hopeless romantic,” he quipped, “You’ll need a house of your own for all those rapscallions.”

The fox froze and wilted, only half-way into his shirt before finishing the process and rubbing his head, “I  _ will _ , won’t I…”

“I might happen to know how to get one for  _ practically _ nothing…”

“What’s wrong, is it on fire?”

“Almost,” Chess chuckled, “It’s been abandoned for years (most of that neighborhood is) and requires  _ several _ gallons of elbow grease just to make it livable… but it  _ is _ around the corner from a fox ice cream vendor.”

“You just want Jackie, Rocky, Grooper and I out of your house, don’t you?” John accused in good humor.

“Only you and Jackie; Rocky can stay… clever little scamp is starting to grow on me,” the wildcat considered, “And Grooper, too.”

“A beacon of altruism, you are.”

“He’s an intuitive engineer,  _ very _ useful,” Chess elaborated, “Let me know what you and Jackie decide, I think Conifer District will be made better by you living in it… and of course, I will expect you both to join me for tea, from time to time.”

John beamed once more, “We wouldn’t miss it for the world. But… how is Jackie going to work into this new identity of mine?”

“Simply enough,” a suddenly adjacent Jackie explained, to which John nearly hit the ceiling in surprise, “Speaking of tea, it’s been waiting for you for some time and needs reheating. As for my past, the orphanage I hail from didn’t keep the best of records, especially not after it closed some years back,” the vixen said, as though thought were already invested into such a notion, “So, I’ll just come up with a maiden name and say I was mated before I got my degree, that way, as far as the city is concerned, ‘Jackie Wilde’ will still have attended her journalism classes during that time. Will getting all that in order be a sufficient enough challenge for you, Chess?”

“It should keep me occupied between crosswords,” he chuckled as they exited and traversed the hall into the kitchen, “All you need now is a name.”

“Perhaps ‘Savage’?” John interjected after calming down, earning bewildered glances from either of the other mammals, “My bachelor name can be your maiden name, and since it already has possible connotations of a dark lineage, it should throw many a busybody off our scent.”

Jackie’s eyebrows arched and lips pursed, glancing to her friend and mentor for guidance, “I…  _ suppose _ that’s feasible…?”

Chess rubbed the chin of his ever-present, ever-growing grin, “That’s just the kind of crazy I can work with.”

“But are you sure you’re okay with that, John?” the vixen inquired, “I understand keeping the name ‘Savage’ hidden but to just hand it over to some other fox -- even if she  _ is _ your mate -- is entirely different.”

“I’m not abandoning my family, Jackie,” John assured as he set his paws lightly on her shoulders, “I’m  _ entrusting  _ their name to you. And… technically speaking, since they  _ are _ your in-laws now, both Piberius and Clawdia Savage are your… father and mother, correct?”

Hearing it spelled out in such a way seemed to have a transformative effect on the vixen, her eyes both glazing and brightening simultaneously before they blinked. “And… we’ll say that they’re  _ my _ mom and dad…?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t even know what they look like, though…?”

“I’ll tell you all you need to know,” John said, guiding her to sit at the kitchen table before pouring her a hot cup of tea.

Jackie sighed… almost dreamily, “It’s weird… as a kit, I’d pretend that my parents were out there somewhere, and I imagined what they’d be like… And now I can actually live a story where I’m not the only one pretending…” she continued but with a shake of her head, “Changing what my name  _ was _ is one thing but I’m not entirely sure how to feel about  _ this _ .”

“It’s not something you need to decide on  _ now _ ,” Chess assured, “I won’t deny that it’s a tremendous step to take, reforging one’s life, but if  _ you _ become the ‘Jackie Savage’ that once was, it could also protect John’s family… even a single heartstring cut could prove our ruin…” he warned, and the table fell silent in memory of his estranged half-brother that paid the price for Chess’s meddling. “Mull it over and let me know what you both reach a conclusion on,” he said, “because I will abide by  _ nothing  _ unless it is unanimous.”

John sat himself down to his topped-off cup of tea, “ _ Well _ ,” he said while grasping Jackie’s paw, “We’ll just have to see what the future has in store for us, won’t we?”

“You are  _ insufferably _ optimistic,” the vixen teased and leaned up to touch her nose to his.

His ears stiffened and flicked with the high wheel of his tail, “My luck brought me  _ you _ ,” he pointed out and rubbed his nose to hers, “So I’d say it’s held out just fine so far.”

* * *

John’s questionable “luck” once more shone through as to the true reason  _ why _ his fellow apprentices so readily welcomed him, for as soon as a client so anxiety-invoking as the Supai family sought  _ immediate _ attention, the “new guy” was promptly “volunteered” (he could not deny that the ease of their enthusiasm was worrisome). It was the day before their return to Reino del Sol and about two since Lions Gate that the eldest Supai son “accidentally” tore through the seam in his right armpit, thus needing the expertise of the self-proclaimed “Best Tailor in Zootopia”.

Nathan DeCoyote excitedly wrapped the measuring tape around his neck like a feather boa as he flicked a wrist at the TV screen and the news report upon it. “Do Moosebridge, next!” he requested of his newest apprentice. The llama’s bright pink eyes and colorless wool were the custom for an albino of any species, except in Nathan’s case his pelt was dyed and styled in brilliant waves of electric blue and chartreuse stripes -- for it’s how he felt that month and his pelt was “a canvas of life” (especially up the length of his neck and the wavy bang over one eye).

John beamed and adjusted his eyeglasses to study the antlered anchor (the Knottedwood fox learned that wearing sunglasses inside was “rude” and the clear lenses were better than no protection at all), “Let’s see… it’s hard to tell since he’s being broadcast and done up with enough makeup to be a cake… but I’d say he’s a born professional. Look at how he addresses both of those alpha-lions, especially with their nonverbal challenges to one another; his fight-or-flight response must be in overdrive right now but his composure is like  _ steel _ .”

“And you know all about alpha-lions, don’t you John?” Nathan cooed with a flick of his puffed-up tail, “Handled Corlione like a  _ champ _ , I heard.”

“I was trembling!” John assured, smiling still if however shyly as he followed the tailor around with his “trolley-of-tricks”, including a pincushion, a selection of thread-and-needles, and scissors, as well as some other tidbits, all while keeping a notepad tucked under his arm, “I’m lucky he was generous enough to put in a good word for me.”

“But what’s this about Moosebridge as a ‘born professional’, hmm?” the llama inquired and coyly grinned as he affixed another pin into his client’s jacket, “Maybe all that steel comes from experience.”

“Doubtful,” the fox argued, “This is definitely the moose’s first story as a co-anchor, his eyes focus too much on his prompter. He’s also young but has a wise face, so I don’t wonder if he stepped up to fill a last-minute vacancy. Otherwise, it’s seamless reporting… especially  _ this _ story,” he said and huffed in a winded sort of way.

“I  _ know _ , it’s simply  _ awful _ ,” Nathan pouted with dismay, “All of those poor children… whatever could that ‘Loose Change’ scoundrel have wanted with them?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” the other, pricklier llama interjected, his wool like waves of rye upon a hillside. He stood in the fifth jacket that the tailor tried on him but it seemed to not fit his taste, either. “Not to be rude, Mr. DeCoyote, but you could have possibly mended  _ my _ jacket in the time it took for me to parade around in  _ these _ ,” he said, stalking off and abruptly shrugging it from his shoulders… which his goat attendant then calmly folded to return to the tailor. “Even though I’ve already wasted far too much of my valuable time being here, I’ll just have to wait for you to finish rather than be seen in a… how did you put it, a  _ ‘loaner’ _ ?”

“Terribly sorry for the delay, Señor Supai, but I  _ do _ have another client that has been waiting as well,” Nathan testily, patiently retorted, not bothering to  _ again _ correct the mispronunciation of his name since it not only sounded intentional but  _ emphasized _ .

“Pity… they’ll have to reschedule,” Supai answered and took a seat in one of the armchairs provided for the comfort of the associates of those measured. The rye llama stared down the other llama’s withering look and crossed one leg over the other as he reclined, “You see, that jacket and these pants are made from Vucana wool, a family of sheep whose  _ exclusivity _ and  _ loyalty _ to the Supais reach back centuries into the history of Reino del Sol. The only reason I bothered coming to  _ you _ to fix it is not so that you could put me into something  _ less _ but because I assumed you appreciated the importance of  _ standards _ . Feel free to prove me right, Mr. DeCoyote.”

“Señor Supai, with all due respect, the DeCoyote line of suits is _long-established_ and-”

“ _ Not _ the finest in the world,” Señor Supai finished, adjusting the cuff of his silk shirt, “You are a talented tailor, I’ll give you that, but ‘The Best in Zootopia’ is  _ hardly _ noteworthy. Vucana thread was already provided for this task and I  _ expect _ your skill to match your boasting. Bear in mind that I’ve suffered enough of my siblings’ mockery for tearing through that jacket in the first place, which my own tailor back home  _ will _ pay dearly for.” His hoof flicked with dismissal.

“John,” Nathan tightly said, “please entertain our client while I finish his jacket,” and swept off to his workroom.

The Supai llama snapped his hoof-knuckles at the goat to conjure her to his side with instruction in a foreign language (a language that John recognized as Goliath’s but did not yet have the pleasure to learn in full… except inferring that the llama was hungry). From a box was an orange, a knife, and a plate produced, the goat’s hooves working in a meticulous blur to peel and separate the citrus fruit into bite-sized wedges (even though it was obvious that her shoulder was pained). It was not until a napkin was tucked into his shirt did Señor Supai eat an orange slice, however, and not until he finished it did he address the fox with a paradoxically patient impatience, as though something should have already happened by then. “Proceed,” he permitted.

Entertainment was certainly a forte of John’s and so he grinned and hooked his thumbs into his classy suspenders, “Have you heard the story about the dancing carpet?” he jovially asked.

“No.”

“Well, you’re in for a-!”

“As in, ‘No, I don’t want to hear it’,” the rye-wooled llama clarified and took another bite of orange, “I am not a  _ cria _ , Mr…” he began, paused and grimaced a moment to remember John’s name…

“Wilde.”

“ _ Fox _ .”

Their responses were simultaneous but Señor Supai did not seem to register the prompting.

“Come to think of it, Mr. Fox, I  _ have _ heard a story about one of your kind; recently, as it so happens,” the llama recalled after another slice of orange, and as he reached for more he instead gestured at his attendant for the box of fruit and reached in to rummage about, “Would you like to hear it?”

“Well, it’s certainly unorthodox for a guest to entertain the host but I’m never one to turn down a good story,” John replied, smiling as cordially as he could. His eyes went wide as the llama lifted into view a ripe, green, round fruit that looked as though it had a cap around its stem.

“This is a fruit that grows only in Reino del Sol,” Supai introduced, examining it with eyes and nose, “I won’t confuse you with its proper name but it’s commonly known as the ‘wolf apple’.” His gaze then locked the apprentice tailor into the floor. “Do foxes…  _ like _ wolf apples?”

John’s paws left his suspenders to instead fold behind his back, keeping his expression as polite and nonchalant as a mammal could possibly be. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know, Señor Supai, for I have never tasted the… ‘wolf apple’, was it?”

The rye llama brought the fruit to his mouth to take a bite, the napkin dabbing at his lips as he savored its taste. “I’ve always enjoyed a crisp, juicy wolf apple even though I know I shouldn’t, so when I heard a most curious story about a fox seeking out this unique fruit, it immediately piqued my interest.”

All color left the crimson face but his fur kept it well hidden, as did John’s composure keep him standing. “Not something one would find at the corner market, I imagine,” the fox attempted in levity to steer the conversation, “I’d bet the Supais could  _ corner _ the  _ market _ on them though, ‘eh? No doubt as fine a reason to make the trip up to Zootopia, to open up solid business relations.”

A grin curled the llama’s lips but it did nothing to lighten the mood. “Among many reasons to bother coming here at all, Mr. Fox,” Supai began as he took another bite from the fruit and dabbed his mouth, “You see… my sister’s pet ran away about a month ago, right out the window… she did love him so, despite his… temperament,” and then referenced the nearby, nervous goat attendant, “Caused quite a bit of damage in his escape, didn’t he? A  _ nasty  _ biter…” The goat nodded and gulped, so the llama addressed his “host” once more, “Something local, loud…  _ red _ .”

John forced calm upon himself. “Like… a macaw? Terribly sorry to hear he flew the coop…”

“Quite terrible,  _ indeed _ ,” the llama scoffed, “she was inconsolable, the poor thing but she should have known better than to take in a wild animal. My cherished sister wanted her next pet to be  _ exotic _ and word was Zootopia had animals from all over the world, pets that were already… housebroken.” He took another bite of the wolf apple, eyes never leaving the fox through the entire process, at which point he asked, “Would you perhaps like a sample, Mr. Fox?” and pivoted his wrist in a sort of offering of the fruit.

“Thank you, Señor Supai, but I would politely decline-”

“But however shall I know if foxes like the taste of the wolf apple?” he coolly pressed, “A question that nagged at me ever since I heard that one of your kind  _ begged _ and  _ scrounged _ all around some backwater podunk for one, especially when they -- like yourself --  _ surely _ never tasted it before.” The arm extended to entice with the half-eaten fruit, even to flick it in beckoning.

“It would be rude of me-”

“I  _ insist _ ,” he nearly hissed, yanking the napkin from his neck and wringing it in his fist. If the llama’s frustration weren’t evident all throughout his jacket fittings then it was a neon billboard at that exact moment.

John approached and accepted the fruit. He had it. It was in his paws and he could see the seeds inside… how easy it would be to bolt for the door and fly down the stairs, escaping back to Bunnyburrow… to Ruth and Goliath, fulfilling his promise and returning to the Knottedwood… but it meant he could never return to the city… could never see Jackie again. Could he have reached his tongue in for a single seed? Not under Señor Supai’s hawk-like glare. He did not even know how many seeds would be enough… The wolf apple might as well have been made of solid gold for its value… and its tremendous weight. John took a bite… and it was sweet, a little tart, like biting into a tomato with a hint of green apple.

He gave it back.

“I must say, that is  _ quite _ delicious,” the fox commended, both sincere and nervous, and whipped out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth clean and recede a single, courteous step.

“How  _ dare  _ you lie to me, Mr. Fox,” Señor Supai sneered, his hoof tilting to let the fruit fall upon the floor with a dull  _ whump _ , its juices drooling into the carpet.

The fox quick-stepped back, gripping the handkerchief as he gazed up at the soon standing, soon towering llama. “Truly, Señor Supai, it is a  _ delicious _ fruit-”

“Do not feign ignorance of whom I speak; you hide it well but your ears and tail betray your guilt. How else could you know  _ about  _ the wolf apple unless  _ he _ told you of it?” Supai accused, and then arched a severe eyebrow to glance about in dawning realization, “He’s still in the city,  _ isn’t _ he?”

John groaned and put on his best pleading smile, “Uh…  _ who _ ?”

“Enough of your games,  _ fox _ , you are well aware that it was no  _ ‘macaw’ _ my sister lost,” Supai snarled, “I speak of the maned wolf you harbor… or I suppose he called himself a ‘large fox’ to earn your ilk’s weak-hearted sympathies. You delude yourself with such fantasies that he deserves mercy. You surely also know the fox in Bunnyburrow who so  _ brazenly _ sought out a unique item like the wolf apple… all for a  _ fugitive _ ,” and then leered at the questioning shock, “There… at last, a bit of  _ honesty _ out of you but perhaps I can further dissuade your doubts. Show him,” he ordered of his goat attendant but turned on her when she bleated in dismay, “Now!”

The goat trembled as she opened her blouse enough to slide it off her shoulder… and even through the shaggy pelt, it was obvious that she had only just healed from a series of wounds that John could plainly see came from a set of fanged jaws.

“Hers aren’t even the worst,” Supai continued after she fixed her blouse, “Would you risk your reputation, your livelihood, your  _ life _ by stealing this fruit for a… a  _ murderer _ ?”

Savage Greens shot up at the llama’s face. “A ‘murderer’?” he challenged the wicked leer and stood up a bit straighter, shoulders squarer, chest puffed out as he removed his glasses, “I’ve looked into his eyes, Supai, as I look into yours and I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that  _ he  _ isn’t a murderer.” John could not cast judgment upon his fellow fox, knowing that Goliath lost his mate in childbirth and no doubt she, too, was likely a “pet” as Señor Supai alluded… and knowing that  _ he _ might not be so civil if Jackie were lost under the same circumstances, torn though he was for the innocent goats the llamas might very well have thrown in Goliath’s path to stop him. “To answer your question:  _ yes _ , I would risk everything for him… because my reputation, livelihood, and life are  _ not  _ what’s most important to me.”

Death stared back at the belligerent, daring fox. And then… Señor Supai softened, “Your words have reached me, noble fox… Mr.  _ Wilde _ , wasn’t it?” the llama swooned, even bowing his head as he touched his chest, “Such honor, such integrity, such  _ pride _ to be a fox… the wolf apple is yours to take but not in the state that it’s in… so perhaps the seeds? Yes, you may have the  _ seeds… _ ” His hoof then stomped the fruit, grinding it into the carpet as his malice returned ten-fold, “ _ If _ you pick them up with your  _ tongue _ .”

John’s assertive stance wavered as he looked down at the hoof rising up from the floor and the crushed wolf apple beneath it, four seeds nestled into the sucrose corpse as Señor Supai sat back in his armchair, one leg crossed over the other. A thousand retorts, insults, tricks, and counters buzzed between his ears to tell the llama what-for and by Aslan’s mane, he’d be  _ justified _ in every word and every glare and every blow he’d land upon Supai’s ego… but…

But…

John knew there was no stance of pride or honor that he could take which would get him those seeds  _ and _ allow him to return to Jackie. If he swiped them, then Supai could have him arrested for theft by his powerful friends if he ever tried to get back into the city. If he told the llama off, then he’d have the goat clean up the mess and the seeds would be gone forever with no guarantee that he could even stay in the city after that; as it was, he’d already ran Supai’s nerves like an untuned fiddle. Only one option lay before John, so he pocketed his glasses and relaxed his shoulders, not even sparing a nervous glance at an unquestionably smug, snarling grin; he squatted onto his haunches, rolled the sleeves away from his paws, tossed the tie over his shoulder… and then braced the floor as his nose hovered over the pulpy remains to gather one seed.

Two seeds.

Three.

Four.

Green eyes peered at the hoof suspended in the air… and the last seed still sticking to its underside…

Five seeds.

“Good dog,” Señor Supai cooed and then snapped his hoof-knuckles at his goat attendant, “Fetch him a glass of water, he  _ must  _ be thirsty.”

The goat approached with a cool drink, frightened eyes wary of the fox as her trembling hooves extended towards him and backed away as soon as his clawed paws grasped it. John watched the llama as he drank the water, taking care not to swallow too fast or else it’d be  _ much _ trickier to salvage the seeds… His ears then spun when Señor Supai loosed a merry guffaw as DeCoyote’s workshop door opened; freezing not at the rye-wooled llama’s sudden delight but at the realization that he just swallowed all five seeds.

“Oh, oh ho ho!” Supai continued, waving one hoof at the fox while covered his eyes with the other, “Stop, mercy! It’s simply too much!” he pleaded. When a thoroughly confused Nathan approached and opened his mouth to speak, the other llama immediately cut him off while standing, “A dancing  _ carpet _ , how simply fantastical!”

When John overcame the shock of the feat it would be to get the wolf apple seeds to Goliath, he turned about with a (very forced) hearty guffaw and grin of his own, “Wait until you hear about the singing lamp!”

Supai laughed all the while as he slipped his arms into the offered sleeves of the jacket, buttoning up and examining where the tear had been, “Marvelous, it’s better than new!” he lauded and with his hooves on either of the tailor’s shoulders he leaned in to kiss his cheeks in turn before lightly clapping one, “Do forgive me for my earlier behavior, Mr. DeCoyote, I know I can be difficult at times,” he requested, using the correct pronunciation of his name.

“I’m… glad you’re in better spirits, Señor Supai…?” DeCoyote wondered.

“All thanks to your apprentice, Mr. Wilde,” the rye-wooled llama assured with a welcoming gesture to the then bashfully grinning fox, “ _ Never _ have I heard such a funny story.”

“What happened to my floor?” he asked of the crushed fruit.

“Forgive me again, I dropped a fruit when the punchline was delivered and nearly tripped over it trying to pick it up!” Supai guffawed, “Do you perhaps have a bucket and a rag? I feel terrible leaving it like this.”

“Don’t worry about it, I can have it cleaned up,” Nathan responded, also feeling a bit lighter but in relief, “If you’re ever in town again, Señor Supai, don’t hesitate to stop by,” he bid as politely as he could.

Señor Supai watched as his goat attendant gathered up all she carried with her and folded his hooves behind his back to spare a sidelong leer at John to make sure he was listening, “Oh, I’ll definitely keep an eye out for you.”

* * *

Thirty-four years later and over two-hundred, eleven miles away, John sat staring into the sad, green, bespectacled eyes floating in his tea. “It was obvious why he let me have those seeds… because I could lead him directly to Goliath,” he rued, thumb brushing the rim of his cup with a slight grimace, “We managed to get the seeds back, so I cleaned them off and put them in the envelope of the letter I wrote, too afraid to send either…” John then chuckled and rubbed his forehead, “I remember I wanted to try out the post office when I first got to the city, so I bought some stationery from the teller, told them it was from ‘Jacky Savage’ to be sent to my sister Ruthie but that she was living with a fox named ‘Grey’…”

“And so it was sent to ‘Mrs. Ruth Grey’, in ‘Preds’ Corner’ of ‘Bunnyburrow’,” Ruth almost choked and touched the corner of her eye, carefully setting down one of her best teacups onto the coffee table that they were all seated around. She and Goliath occupied chairs from the kitchen, Gideon in the nearby armchair, and Esther and Nick shared the couch with John and Jackie.

“But… I never sent it…?” her brother disbelieved, “I didn’t know that postage  _ also _ cost money and they got your name wrong, funny though it was at the time, so I… I held onto it… we thought it was lost…?” he said to his equally confused mate.

“Could Chess have… unknowingly…?” Jackie suggested.

“It arrived… at least a year after you left,” Ruth continued, “I waited to hear back from you, half figuring that you’d forgotten. You could recall a day down to each minute and step but you’d lose your head if it weren’t attached to your neck… So I waited, as a dutiful sister should… all the while Goliath and I grew closer. It seemed we were the only ones in the Corner that didn’t realize how close we’d really gotten, though, and then ‘Mrs. Ruth Grey’ received a letter and we decided that it was meant to be…”

“And here I thought you mated in  _ spite _ of me…” her brother muttered under his breath in further disbelief, welcoming of the news though he seemed to be, “Then you  _ got _ the seeds?”

“Yes,  _ but…  _ they were long dead and dried….” Goliath answered, also sounding as if something was caught in his throat, “After reading the letter, we were confused and so convinced that you left us twisting in the wind, unsure if the seeds were spitting in our faces or not. We decided that we didn’t need you to live a happy, peaceful life… but to hear what you went through in getting them…” he trembled and stood, towering over everyone else, “You lowered yourself and suffered such  _ insults _ for our sakes _ … _ ”

“For all the good it did, if only I’d actually  _ sent  _ them-!” John pleaded and covered his bowed head but was stopped by the mitt-like paws that sprung over the coffee table, plucking the tailor from his seat in a yelp that was soon muffled by the large fox’s embrace.

“All is forgiven, Jacky,” Goliath said as he licked both cheeks of a bewildered John bracing all paws against the bigger fox’s torso, and then set him back into his seat, “Even if you’d coughed them back up the seeds would have never born fruit. It’s why, in all the world, only  _ we _ large foxes can grow the wolf apple; it will wither on the branch without the essence of our bodies, beginning in the very acid of our stomachs,” he then said, “Every seven years, all villages of the valley eat the seeds so that they can pass through us and nourish the land… something which was common knowledge for me that I never thought to tell you about… The Supais would know this, which is surely why he had you swallow them so that even if you somehow snuck them to us it would have been in vain. Is it  _ I _ who should beg forgiveness from  _ you _ , for the hatred I harbored in my heart these many decades…”

“It wouldn’t be until three years later that I’d see you again…” Ruth continued as her mate sat back down, “I was at the market when I saw you… I thought you were a  _ ghost _ … and you about jumped from your fur when you saw me. I yelled out your name and dropped my basket to chase you and nearly lost you at the edge of the woods… until you stopped, leaning on a tree with your back to me… it was the coldest shoulder I ever saw in my life,” she said, gripping her dress at the knees, “I was willing to forgive you for disappearing and no matter what else you’d done… I just wanted you back in my life. But you snapped at me, treated me like a  _ stranger _ and doing…  _ something _ behind the tree and all I wanted to know was why you came back if not for me…” she recalled and almost teared up, “You said you’d ‘have to  _ kill _ me if you told me’…”

John held his mouth, face pale beneath his fur. “That’s when you ran off, crying… it was one of the worst days of my life, Ruthie,” he rued and then continued, “But it’s not what you think-” only to stop again at his sister’s raised paw.

“I know…” Ruth abashedly confessed, fingers slowly twiddling, “It was sometime later that I learned it  _ wasn’t  _ a threat… I heard that same line on the TV, and then I heard it  _ again… _ I wondered if I might have overreacted… I was mad at  _ you _ for joking about something like that, I was mad at  _ myself _ for screaming at the top of my lungs to… to ‘never darken my doorstep again’… I was just  _ mad _ that you were gone and I didn’t even know  _ why _ …” She sighed and straightened out her dress as the room remained otherwise still, “Giddy?”

“Y-yeah, Ma?” Gideon answered, about jumping from his own fur.

“Do you still have the first issue I ever got you at the store?” she requested with a significant arch of her eyebrows.

He blinked… and smiled, “Y-yeah! As it so happens,” the baker replied, hopping to his feet to scamper over to the door, “I found a cleaner,  _ better _ copy at the TBR today.” After a bit of rummaging, he pulled out the issue from its bag and opened its sleeve. Both John and Jackie were quite aghast as they watched him return and then scooted over on the couch to allow Ruth to sit adjacent (while Nick got up to join his cousin in peering over their shoulders).

“‘Mr. & Mrs. Foxglove: A Riddle Most Foul’…” John recalled as his sister flipped open the issue.

Ruth gently smiled as she pointed at one of the panels of the super-sleuth catching his foot into the ankle of his opponent (in that specific case, a nunchuck-wielding serval) to send them somersaulting over his shoulder and face-planting into the ground. “It didn’t happen at first, I’ll admit, but the more I saw the more I was convinced that I recognized my brother’s grace and power in combat;  _ your _ style, when you trained or sparred, something I would recognize anywhere. The way Mr. Foxglove wove through his foes like they were paper or effortlessly balanced on the thinnest edge… these were coincidences too great to  _ not  _ be my Jacky Savage.

“When Giddy first found this comic book on the magazine rack, I was skeptical but he wanted it badly enough to clean the kitchen for three days… it gave him something to earn, so whenever a new one popped up, he’d do chores and I’d buy it for him until he was able to buy them himself,” she continued, reaching up to brush her son’s cheek and return the comic book, “I looked through them first, of course, to make sure they were safe for a kit to read.”

“Some I wasn’t even allowed to look at until I was older,” he interjected with a pouting huff.

“And that’s when I saw you jumping through the pages like a grasshopper in all your confidence… and that’s when I saw ‘Mrs. Foxglove’, too,” Ruth continued, no signs of acknowledging her son’s commentary as she then smiled to Jackie, “I wasn’t sure how much of those stories were true but I heard rumors and news reports from the city that were  _ far _ too alike to brush aside. That’s when I realized that… that my brother got himself tangled up in some manner of  _ mischief _ , jus’ like he always managed to do… and it was on me to assure he still had someone he could return to afterward when all was said and done.”

“Just like Papa always said…” John agreed.

Ruth nodded… and then turned to her kits, grasping each of their paws in hers, “Essy… Giddy… forgive me for keeping this secret from you… I didn’t know what it all entailed, only that if your uncle needed to stay hidden then it was my duty to keep him as such. But…” she then said and looked to John, “Is it over? Can we be a family again…?”

John sighed… and Jackie sighed… they looked to each other and then he smiled at his sister, “Of course we can be a family again.”

“What we dealt with back then…  _ that _ is over,” Jackie reported to a room-wide release of tension, “The kidnappers went dormant after Lions Gate; for the most part, at least. The threat was always  _ there _ but the communities and precincts were more watchful and willing to help,” the Wilde vixen explained, “ _ We  _ were only called in when the trail went cold or bureaucracy stopped an  _ obvious _ open/shut case. It gave ‘The Tweedle Bros.’ plenty of material for ‘Mr. & Mrs. Foxglove’, I’m sure, but we could almost feel Chief Hemion’s hot breath whenever we got too close to Pleasure Island. It was  _ paramount _ that we remained unidentified, even our species in some cases.”

“There were some days when I truly  _ did _ feel like Mr. Foxglove: kidnappings not by Pleasure Island but ransom situations, crimes of opportunity, or just straight-up  _ psychopaths _ ; no cabal of villains, either, only bad mammals who did bad things for bad reasons,” John said, “And then… things changed after a few months…”

Jackie swirled the tea in her cup thoughtfully. “I began getting sick… felt like I had a psychosis with how easily I lost my temper or sobbed hysterically… I was gaining weight, getting clumsy, hated the taste of  _ everything _ I loved before but ate things I  _ never _ otherwise would… John and I were on a case when we were once again accosted. We escaped but I earned a nasty gash on my arm for my carelessness… So, John picked me up and ran all the way to the hospital…”

“Wait…” Ruth breathily cut in, and then clapped both paws over her mouth in unmitigated glee, “You were  _ pregnant! _ ” and then looked at a shocked Nick with awe, paws crossed over her chest.

“I was!” Jackie revealed, as though delivering a punchline to draw back the somber curtain which covered the room.

“I only found out after a nerve-wracking hour in the waiting room,” John laughed, “The doctor finally came out and wondered where that gash in her arm came from, to which I said it was a knife accident, she slipped and it cut her (which wasn’t  _ wrong _ ), but when he said ‘They’re  _ both _ okay’, I -- in all my brilliance -- said ‘“They”? Was someone else hurt?’,” and laughed again, “It took me a solid minute to grasp the situation when he congratulated me on the good news! So, of course, I flailed around like an idiot, literally back-flipped off a wall, and then ran down the hallway to Jackie’s room.”

“At which point,” Jackie butt in, “I heard about some ‘fox wreaking havoc’ in the hallways, so I asked the nurse to open the window as wide as it’ll go and take a step back. It wasn’t long until John found  _ some  _ way to sling himself into the room and slide across the floor into the facing wall,” she chuckled.

“That’s when we decided to make it official: marriage recognized by the city, that house on 32nd Street…” John listed off.

“My maiden name as ‘Savage’…” Jackie bashfully added and loosed a gravitational sigh, “We… kept a lot of secrets and told a lot of lies, whatever our rationale was, there’s no more beating around the bush about it. Nicky…”

“We’re sorry,” John said as they both looked up to their son.

“ _ Very _ sorry… There were so many times we wanted to tell you but never knew  _ how _ , or if we  _ should _ … We were afraid to pull you into that life… of  _ losing _ you…”

“We kind of hoped you’d come to us about it,” John regretfully admitted, “that’s a big reason why we gave you the ‘Mr. & Mrs. Foxglove’ comic books, especially after we got back from…” he groaned unconvincingly before muttering under his breath, “saving someone  _ else’s _ kids.”

“Our mission was finally accomplished but we’d already alienated our son in the cruelest twist of irony,” Jackie said, her verge of tears breaking through her composure, at last.

“Guys,” Nick interrupted as he moved around to address them, forcing his chin to not tremble and his eyes to not water (but not really succeeding at either), “You were  _ amazing _ parents. The  _ real _ Mr. and Mrs. Foxglove? It’s every kit’s dream!  _ And _ you still managed to put up with and provide for a whiny little brat of a kit like  _ me _ ? I couldn’t have  _ asked _ for better parents!” he exclaimed, and then told his aunt and uncle, “No offense, other parents.”

“None taken,” Goliath easily assured, “I’ve read some of Giddy’s comics and there’s  _ no  _ way in this life or the next that I can amount to  _ that _ ,” he admitted with a high, jovial whistle.

“Truly,” Esther added, sitting a bit closer on the couch and leaning a bit over her Ma, “To see how much good you’ve done, all while remaining true to the letter and spirit of the law… you should both be proud of yourselves, especially since you raised the first fox-cop in Zootopian, if not  _ metropolitan _ history!”

“But if you  _ are _ lookin’ to make-up for anything,” Gideon then butt in, stoicism melting into unmitigated glee, “Would you both sign my comics? Like,  _ all _ of ‘em?”

“ _ Giddy _ ,” Ruth berated, well-hidden though her amusement was. He whimpered at her with  _ such _ soulful eyes that she could only sigh as she stood up and began collecting the used teacups, “ _ One _ comic.”

“I really don’t mi-” John began but stopped to a  _ very _ gentle bat from his mate’s tail.

“Don’t interfere with family dynamics,” she whispered.

“I shall interfere  _ and _ mettle to my heart’s content, as they are now  _ my _ family too,” he wryly retorted, to which Jackie sighed and shrugged. After all, he certainly wasn’t  _ wrong _ and if the smile she hid were any indication, Jackie was certainly happy to hear of familial meddling all the same.

As happy as he was to hear all he did, Nick still had questions. Multitudinous questions. Questions from the very pit of his soul. But…

But…

They were not questions for the moment. They were not questions for others to hear. They were questions only for him and his parents… questions that they could not answer when putting on a brave face. Nick -- like both Gideon and Esther -- had plenty still to discuss… and that time would come soon; that night, in fact. But for the moment… Nick had his family. Nick had peace of mind.

And Nick had a text message from Judy… but that would be for later in the night, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The note at the beginning is a take on "The Walrus and the Carpenter" from "Alice in Wonderland".
> 
> Mayor Waters: "Waters" is a generic hippo name based on the species’ other name, "water horse”. "Joey" is based on an antagonistic character from the 1936 "Silly Symphony" short, "Elmer Elephant". Additionally, the idea of a corrupt hippo mayor preceding Leodore Lionheart goes to my friend and fellow author, NieveLion.
> 
> ["The Bigs in Little Rodentia and the Koslovs in Tundratown"] This references Mr. Big, the arctic shrew that is also the biggest crime boss in Tundratown, and Morris Koslov, his right-paw polar bear. It's implied here that they were competitors at some point, perhaps.
> 
> ["guardian of the neighborhood"] A little shout-out to Rocket Raccoon, from Guardians of the Galaxy.
> 
> A drying-room, before handheld fur-dryers were able to be manufactured on a large-scale, was common to find in houses and establishments wherein bathing happened (hotels, gyms, etc.), and for the sake of this story, fulfills the role of saunas. In modern times, drying-rooms are considered more a luxury than a necessity.
> 
> ["but it is around the corner from a fox ice cream vendor"] This is references the location of the Wildes' home in Brave, chapter 3, and the ice cream vendor is The Frozen Fox (which is also nearby the future location of John’s Suitopia).
> 
> Nathan DeCoyote was, at the time when I first wrote him, a coyote but the more I delved into this story the less sense it made... Why would the Supais go to a coyote tailor? And if there were a coyote tailor, how different would it be that there was a fox apprenticing him? More importantly, a coyote is not much larger than a fox so what need would John have to utilize his environment to gain the extra to measure the larger clients when a professional tailor would have their own mean of doing (i.e., ladders or scaffolding). I realized I painted myself into a bit of a pickle and so decided to implement that classic trope of "It's pronounced...!" when dealing with a character whose name looks different than it sounds and is a point of contention (i.e., Bigbooté from "Buckaroo Banzai"). Making DeCoyote a flamboyant albino llama stayed true to his original character and provide a direct argument to "llamas = bad".
> 
> “The Dancing Carpet” and “The Singing Lamp” are both references to Aladdin.
> 
> "Cria(s)" is the name for a baby llama/alpaca but is a catchall name for this story's purposes.
> 
> Wolf apples are actually closer to tomatoes than apples, so they don't have cores and boast roughly 20-30 seeds per fruit, as opposed to the 5 as is common with apples. For the sake of this story and dramatic effect, this particular breed of wolf apple bears a closer resemblance to apples than tomatoes.
> 
> ["Thirty-four years later and over two-hundred, eleven miles away"] Respectively, Nick's approx age in the story and the distance that Judy (age 9) put for the distance between Bunnyburrow and Zootopia.
> 
> Nick said something similar to "you’d lose your head if it weren’t screwed on…" of himself in the movie.
> 
> ["and it was on me to assure he still had someone he could return to afterward when all was said and done"] Nick touches on this philosophy back in Brave, chapter 17.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [And so we reach a tidy resolution with this arc of the story. As I mentioned before, Jackie Savage was actually one of the first characters I created for Neverwere Moments and while I didn't ascertain whether they were Nick's Mom or Dad initially, I knew he was their kit; eventually, I figured it best to make them both "Jacky/Jackie Savage" as "Mr. & Mrs. Foxglove". The primary reason why I did this was that Nick -- by my reckoning -- either lost or was estranged from his parents, and not simply because of normal family drama stuff; this had to be big, and little did I know that it would be the motor of the NwM timeline, explaining not only Zootopia's sordid past but how it involved Nick before he was even born. Finding out about Bogo's past was certainly a pleasant surprise. There are a few more things to clean up with regards to John and Jackie Wilde but I'll take care of those in the chapters to come. For now, please accept this singular scene as we transition back into the main plot of Neverwere Moments.]

“I imagine you have a lot of questions,” John said.

“I do,” Nick replied.

“Which is why you suggested we break off into families,” Jackie pointed out.

“That I did.”

“And even brought us out to the edge of the lawn, where the lights of the city would be better visible behind that mountain pass if not for all the activity in town. What’s happening down there, anyway?” the older tod asked.

“Something, I don’t know, I’m sure Judy’s got it handled, sly bunny that she is. Listen, we really need to stay on track before I lose my nerve and-” Nick began to tremulously say but he and his parents launched from their pelts to a faint, sobbing wail from the Grey household.

“Ruthie!” John declared, already toppling his lawn chair in a mad sprint back to see what the problem was but promptly landed flat on the ground. After pushing himself off the grass he glared in bewilderment over his shoulder to find that his tail had caught… in his son’s white-knuckled paws.

“Dad…” Nick choked, also lying flat on the grass, “ _ Please… _ ”

“Did you not  _ hear _ -?” he disbelieved.

“I did!” the younger tod sobbed, his face buried into the fluff of his father’s tail as his paws wrung tighter, wrestling with the realization that Gideon certainly revealed to his parents his own dark secret and knew he couldn’t face him if he didn’t do the same, “I know why she cried like that and I’ll tell you later but  _ I _ need you  _ here _ ,  _ now _ …”

Jackie, already in the process of hurrying over, knelt beside her son and gingerly grasped his wrists to release their death-grip. “C’mere, Nicky,” she hushed while sitting him up and against her. She then beckoned her mate closer with an assertive nod.

Her mate argued by pointing over his shoulder.

She rebuked him by swatting the grass with her tail.

“I’m sorry,” Nick mumbled, then sitting cross-legged with his tail curled about him, elbows to his knees and paws folded to support his forehead, “I’m being selfish again, completely ignorant to everyone else around me…”

“Nicky,” John said, scampering over to throw his arms around both mate and son, “You’re not being… I mean to say, you’re absolutely right, I shouldn’t go running off to save someone else when…”

“I’ve always been this way, thinking my problems are  _ so _ important and no one else’s is,” Nick persisted, paws inverting to instead hold his face, “ _ So _ convinced I was always right. I just had to pop in and make everything about me, like always.”

Jackie nestled in closer. “Blueberry, you’ve brightened every room, you always have,” she assured.

“For years, I wondered why you never brought me with you when you left…” Nick trembled, “And hearing what you actually did… it makes sense that you wouldn’t bring a kit along but then I can’t help but think… that… from the very  _ beginning _ I just… pop up where I’m not wanted…” he choked again, “And because you had to worry about something happening to your snot-nosed brat-”

Nick’s face was grabbed and turned so his green eyes locked with John’s, each filled to the brim with tears, “Nicky… you are the  _ greatest _ thing we could have given this world. And… of all the rationale or reasons we might come up with for doing what we did… We were wrong to leave you and there’s no excuse.”

“We love you, Nicky,” Jackie added, reaching around to cup his cheek and look into his eyes, “we’ve  _ always _ loved you and always will. If it weren’t for  _ you _ , we would have  _ never _ fought for as long as we did.  _ You  _ made it all worthwhile.”

He sniffed and blinked in futile attempts to stem his gushing sinuses, thankful most of all when his mom pulled out a handkerchief to dry them off. It was juvenile and unbecoming of someone his age and profession to be treated like a baby-kit but even if the entire precinct were watching at that exact moment, Nick wouldn’t care. “Okay…” he breathed after blowing his nose, “I think… I think I’m ready. I have to tell you something,” and pulled out his phone to unlock it.

“ _ Whoa _ ,” John remarked when he glimpsed his son’s wallpaper, “Does she really have a tattoo on her…?”

“It’s there, isn’t it?” Nick smirked and pointed.

“I do love that emblem,” Jackie commented, “Are you two…?”

“Yep.”

“Have you…?”

“Officially? No.”

“And spiritually…?”

“Last night.”

“Oh  _ ho _ , so who…?”

“Judy.”

“Does  _ she _ …?”

“Probably not? She’s much cleverer than even  _ I _ give her credit for, though.”

“Record her reaction, if you can,” John leered, “and if you  _ do _ make it official, I call dibs on making the tuxedos.”

“Duly noted,” Nick agreed and sniffed up the remainder of his phlegm as the momentary levity lifted his mood from the previous emotional pitfall, “Okay… here we go.”

“Here,” Jackie offered, using one paw to support her son’s trembling grip while her mate supported the other.

“Thanks,” Nick said and then tapped the screen to playback the mysterious footage of the night he was muzzled at the Junior Ranger Scouts meeting. Its effect on Nick had not diminished since he first saw it but what startled him  _ that _ time around was his parents’ reactions. Dad was something of a basket case as he cradled the phone and just  _ stared _ at his son’s muzzled face. Mom used  _ very _ colorful descriptors under her breath, on the verge of inflicting maternal retribution.

“You were right, John,” she coolly…  _ icily _ admitted through the grind of her fangs, “Those prey kids were  _ nothing _ but trouble. I heard they did  _ something _ but it was just ‘kids being kids’.”

“We knew something was wrong but I  _ never  _ thought they went this far…” he weakly responded, “Nicky… there are no words to express how  _ deeply _ sorry I am for accusing you as I did… Especially when Officer Crossie brought you home that one time… It’s no wonder you kept it hidden, especially after hearing about Xander…”

“You called yourself a ‘hypocrite’, which is what really confused me,” Nick recalled under his breath, and looked to either of his parents in turn, “I tried to make things better, and that’s what I wanted to tell you that night.  _ This  _ night, though, Chess was there when I got home and I didn’t know what to do about him… So I went to Finnick’s, instead. Shane let me stay there during the meetings and kept my secret. Now, before anyone wonders  _ why  _ I waited so long…” he said, and then tapped the phone again to resume it. Both Wilde parents watched in shock like their son and nephew before them as a long-eared shadow popped onto the screen to take the muzzle away and then snapped up at the camera to cause  _ it _ to drop back into hiding. “I thought the prey kids swiped the muzzle, so even if I accused them it’d be my word against theirs or even  _ our _ word against four or five other prey families.”

It was Jackie’s turn to accept the phone and stare at it, but then she gawked at her mate, “John…”

“Yeah, I see it…”

“Guys, elaborate?” Nick prompted, hoping to get in on the knowing expressions.

John rubbed his head. “Whoever took that video… was maybe a member of the Watch. I asked them to keep an eye on you but that was _ after _ you started staying out as a teenager, getting into more trouble.  _ This _ …” he grunted and folded his paws, eyes hardening over the rim of his glasses, “This goes back to when you were just a toddler. Your mother and I wanted to retire ‘Mr. & Mrs. Foxglove’ after you were born but there was always something that came up that only  _ we _ could or would handle. So… we kept on it.”

“Around the time of Bunnyburrow’s Centennial Celebration,” Jackie continued in equally somber tone as she gestured to the countryside as a whole, “Your father was called out here for a case… I was months pregnant, so I stayed back. We both knew the risks but it was about as high-profile as we’d ever seen and could not easily turn it down.”

“A daughter of the hyena family that worked directly under the Kings had gone missing,” John explained, “She was thought a runaway but was assumed cubnapped when she didn’t turn up again… I followed the clues that led me out here and knew that I had to bite the bullet and face Ruthie eventually… I never imagined that  _ she’d _ find  _ me _ , I mean, she always  _ could _ find me but not when I had some thug in a chokehold.”

“Which is what you hid behind that tree,” Nick reasoned.

“It was a precarious situation,” John numbly relayed, “It was also my first major failure because I found out I was being led around by my whiskers on a wild goose chase. On top of which, I broke my sister’s heart such that I was convinced she’d never want anything more to do with me. And finally…”

Jackie muted a leaden sigh as she looked to her son, “It was when I lost your brother…”

“When I got home, I found an envelope under the doormat…” John managed to continue, his expression much darker, “It was a baby shower card but inside was written ‘Look what you’ve done’. How _ ever _ ,” he immediately said before Nick could respond, “to answer the obvious question: No, I don’t think  _ ‘they’ _ took our unborn kit as retribution. Our doctor said it was a… natural thing, no signs of trauma. But ‘they’ claimed credit for it all the same and all the same I was a fox possessed to find them.” John sat and pondered for a bit. “I began with the card and tracked down its manufacturer… but my investigation hit  _ several  _ walls.

“And then something occurred to me that I hadn’t thought of since Chess first explained this whole…  _ ‘they’ _ thing: how could they find out what we were doing and who we were without some kind of surveillance in place? The technology of today would make it a no-brainer, but thirty years ago? It would take setup, maintenance,  _ obvious _ things, things that  _ I _ would be especially sensitive to if they were electronic. So, I figured there had to be spies, eavesdroppers, that sort of thing but nothing that needed to get so close as to trigger a fox’s sensitive nose; i.e. mice and other such small rodents.”

Nick’s eyes fluttered as his ears pointed straight up. “I’ll take ‘A _ cute _ Listeners’ for five-hundred, Dad,” Nick caught on, speaking with a subdued, game show flair. He recalled his own trouble with being eavesdropped during  _ his _ most recent escapades.

John spared a half-grin and responded with matching flair, “These mammals are capable of surveillance at a distance, nimbly mobile, numerous, and easily overlooked.”

“What are ‘rabbits’?”

“On the wiggly, button nose, Nickster,” the older tod commended, “You don’t spend a week hitting the mean streets of Bunnyburrow without figuring out that rabbits can hear you coming a mile off. I still needed to determine if they were simply the means or not and I didn’t expect a lot from it, but I looked into any and all rabbits with influence, power, what-have-you…  _ so  _ many promising leads and false-starts… It was  _ months  _ before I uncovered a name…  _ one  _ name that countless strings led back to but not a  _ single _ piece of evidence, much less proof could corroborate: Magnus Hopps.”

Nick’s frown fell off his face as his jaw wagged pitifully and then snapped back up again, “Okay, I was half-expecting that but it still surprised me. And just so we’re clear, you mean  _ that _ Magnus Hopps, right?”

“Do I mean the Magnus Hopps, CEO of the Hopps Processing Plant in Knotash? Yes, yes I  _ do _ . He was only a son of the owner back then, of course,” John further explained, “You should have seen the web of connections I had on him, tucked away in the crawl space over our house;  _ all _ of it, speculation and circumstantial,” he huffed. “And then a day came when said owner, Reginald Hopps, commissioned a suit of DeCoyote’s… I wasn’t the apprentice to aid him, though; that was the hamster.  _ I _ was working on a set of tuxedos for a groom and his bestmammals… which somehow caught the attention of one tag-along Magnus…

“He was no less than twenty feet away from me… I could have pinned him to the floor faster than a twitch of his ears -- and oh, how I  _ wanted _ to…” the older tod growled, only to calm himself, “Magnus walked up to my workbench like he owned the place and started handling my scissors. We made small talk, he admired the tuxedos saying that he never really saw himself as the type to settle down, but if he  _ were _ then he’d ‘definitely keep an eye out for me’,” John significantly quoted, “and then handed me the scissors to cut a loose thread on his cuff. After that, he thanked me and left. So… I stopped tracking Magnus Hopps and burned all of my research, thus all proof of ‘stalking’,” he air-quoted.

“Like father, like son, it seems,” Jackie pointed out to her kit, “When I heard that  _ you _ were tracking Magnus Hopps in present time, it felt like history repeating itself and we knew we had to get out here  _ pronto _ .”

“So why didn’t you  _ tell _ me?” Nick asked.

“For the same reason that I got rid of all that research, Nicky,” John said, “We assumed that  _ everything _ was being observed and manipulated. Back then, it felt like any kidnapping case we came across lacked any of the…  _ gravity _ or importance that Lions Gate had,” he sighed, “Chess eventually figured that our efforts were discounted as ‘inevitable’ and then planned around like it was nothing more than a  _ game _ .”

“A game that we had to play or else lives would genuinely be lost,” Jackie lamented, “This continued until Simon King went missing… heralding in a new age of child protection laws, thus cutting Pleasure Island off at the vine but at so great a cost to the King family…”

“Memphis and Sarah lost everything they cared most about, for Zootopia’s future… but unlike us, they didn’t even know that they were fighting until it was too late…” John rued, and then sat up with a sad smile, “I’m sorry, I guess I’m projecting a bit… it was in the aftermath of Simon’s cubnapping that Jackie and I retired ‘Mr. & Mrs. Foxglove’, hoping for a normal family life.”

“It’s all we ever wanted… I think it’s all any fox or mammal ever wants -- to have someone, somewhere they can go back to; a safe haven,” Jackie said, reaching out to embrace her kit and John soon followed suit.

Nick was happy to be held by them both, turning his head to lick and nose at either of their faces, as a kit should. “So…” he said after a moment of simply enjoying the affection, “I’m going to go out on a limb here by saying that the Knotash bunnies and cruise ship both returning early  _ is _ connected to you both?”

John hummed, smiled, and then leaned over his son to quietly brag to his mate, “I  _ told _ you he’d figure it out.”

Both Nick and Jackie rolled their eyes. “I didn’t say he  _ wouldn’t _ , I said he  _ shouldn’t _ have,” she corrected, and then sat up, “How’d you work it out?” the maternal vixen asked, reaching to cup the smirking cheek and brush it with her thumb.

“ _ Well _ ,” the younger tod began, “back on Friday, Dad showed me a high-end, niche app that let him take a photo of someone and change how they looked with ease and mentioned it was made by a ‘raccoon friend of his’.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Which I learned tonight  _ had _ to be none other than Rocky Cooper, all grown up,” Nick then explained, “I also wouldn’t say he’s ‘around my age’, but close enough. Anyway,” he said to his father’s awkward grin, “I actually know the guy, he owns a garage and is the most foul-mouthed mechanic this side of the Lion’s Tail but also one of the best; he also respects a mammal’s privacy… and wallet. I didn’t think he was any kind of hacker, though.”

“Maybe I can get him to show you his server farms one of these days,” Jackie mused, “Rocky was the primary support during our Rescuer days, handled all of the technical aspects. He’s also how we knew about your and Esther’s…” the vixen paused, “ _ Abduction _ .”

Nick’s eyes went wide as he grimaced. “You  _ knew _ ? When?”

“We began to worry when your and Gideon’s face popped up on the darknet,” Jackie answered, “But on the same token, we really couldn’t do much about it except… continue worrying, lest everything we worked so hard to keep hidden come to light before we were ready for it to. Your father nearly went into a panic when we couldn’t contact you the next morning.”

“So did  _ you _ ,” John playfully accused of his shying mate, “but we can hardly be blamed. Midday came around and there was  _ still  _ no word, so we put out our feelers to figure out what might’ve been up and all I could think about was whether the suit I designed for you would be for your funeral or not…” the fatherly fox petered off, “I busied myself with it for sanity’s sake and I about fainted from relief when you called, Nickster. At that point… we figured everything would be okay but we still kept on our guard.

“And then Finnick came into my shop last night with a photo of Supai, saying he found out about him while researching Magnus,” John continued, “I knew I had to get Goliath back to Bunnyburrow  _ ASAP _ and it didn’t take a great leap of logic to figure out there was some big scheme going on in Knotash; why else vacate the premises for any length of time? I have my crackpot theories as to what it could even be but it was obvious that getting everyone back  _ in _ was the surest way to disrupt whatever Magnus was up to. Which…” he then pondered and craned his neck towards the direction of the midnight sun that was the current Preds’ Corner, “I suppose  _ that _ would be him buying time.”

Nick’s brow quirked. “The Supais, huh?”

“Still can’t say for certain what they’re coming back for except that it’s to do with that bunny-shaped embodiment of evil,” John said, “Now, Nicky… what made my sister cry out like that?” he asked, thumb pointing over a shoulder with one of the sternest looks he could give his son.

The younger tod groaned and scratched his neck. “Would you like me to just  _ tell  _ you or would you rather go up there and see if everything’s okay?”

John grimaced… and then chuckled darkly. “Sly fox, avoiding the issue with a better outcome. Yes, I  _ would  _ like to see if everything’s okay,” he decided and stood, holding out a paw to help his mate up as his son, too, rose to his feet. “Let’s gather up these chairs and head back in,” he suggested, folding up his own toppled-over seat and handing it off to Nick, who took it upon himself to fold and carry the other two, as well. “Is there any way I can prepare myself for what’s to come?” he then asked.

“Just don’t say ‘that’s impossible’,” Nick answered and followed them up the gentle slope. He spared one last glance over his shoulder at the bright lights of Preds’ Corner, as well as the lights of the newly re-occupied farmhouses along the way. Things were settling down, it seemed, returning to the status quo, complete with stories and hearsay about all that happened while everyone was on vacation. Judy’s text message kept tugging at him, however, even if he couldn’t get away from his current obligations, as of yet…

**Get down here; I need an answer from you.**

It wasn’t long after the Wildes entered through the kitchen door of the Grey homestead that a great shadow rose from the town like a column of smoke to eclipse the floodlights… its distant cawing of a thousand ravens heard often enough at night vanishing into the trees of the nearby woods as quickly as it had appeared…

**Never mind, I figured it out. Get down here anyway.**

…was the next message Judy would send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [“You were right, John,” she coolly… icily admitted, “Those prey kids were nothing but trouble.”] This references an observation John made in a flashback of Brave, chapter 1 about how the prey families of the JRS troop were “downright malicious”.
> 
> [“Nicky… there are no words to express how deeply sorry I am for accusing you of dishonesty… Especially when Officer Crossie brought you home that one time…”] calls back to when Nick was talking to Gideon in Brave, chapter 5, while [“It’s no wonder you kept it hidden, especially after hearing about Xander…”] refers to the flashback in Brave, chapter 1.
> 
> [He recalled his own trouble with being eavesdropped during his most recent escapades.] The idea of bunny eavesdroppers was first covered in Trustworthy, chapter 17, to explain how Grav was able to follow the heroes’ efforts all day.
> 
> [“Well,” the younger tod began, “Back on Friday, Dad showed me … and mentioned it was made by a ‘raccoon friend of his’.”] This happened back in Trustworthy, chapter 2.
> 
> The Lion’s Tail is a major river running through Zootopia.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Whether sharp or dull, my blade pierces the dirt  
> The pads on my paws cannot feel the hurt,  
> Like inside my heart for the dearly depart...  
> Ohhh~ w'ohhh~  
> Pour a drop or two on the headstone for luck,  
> Tie it down secure to keep it in the truck,  
> So practice your lies in case anyone pries...  
> Ohhh~ w'ohhh~  
> Deep down...  
> Deep down...  
> We know it ain't too right  
> But it's the dead of night  
> And the dead don't need  
> What's kept out of sight  
> Deep down...  
> Deep down...  
> W'ohhh~"
> 
> -Graverobber shanty

Things were getting better down in Preds’ Corner for the Burrow Watch members, especially when Judy, Bo, and Lanny arrived with several dozen “cavalry” (Travis ducked out as soon as the truck stopped due to familial obligations). Even so, Mr. Barley was at the end of his rope, judging by his haggard scampering and doubling over, no doubt burdened with directing both the Watch and managing the Knotash bunnies. “Hopps!” he announced in the pearlescent glow of the overhead floodlights, every cast shadow was scoured into a haze beneath busy feet or sharpened to tangible edges in corners and alleyways.

“Payton, you’re  _ exhausted _ ,” Judy comforted, one paw at his back and the other on an arm, “What can I do to help?”

“Blest be,” he gasped after collecting his breath and stood upright once more, “I need you to handle the rabbits from Knotash. Do you have your police badge with you?”

“Of  _ course  _ I do, what with everything that’s happened this week already, but I’m off duty and out of uniform-”

“Never mind that,” Mr. Barley resolutely pleaded, “If you need permission then I’ll talk with Sheriff Longmare and she’ll talk with Chief Bogo. Right now we just need some  _ authority  _ to quell the Knotashians’ concerns and I have my paws full with the Burrow Watch. Your badge doesn’t need to be visible, only at the ready in case you need to thump-the-foot a bit if you catch my meaning.”

“I’ll be sure to use it sparingly, but I understand,” Judy answered, “Goodness, it must be frantic over here…”

“I haven’t seen rabbits this riled since the Pred Scare,” he continued, and then leaned in to whisper behind a paw, “but between you and me, I think those city-bunnies are a  _ bit _ high-strung.”

“ _ Please _ be patient with them, they’re in a  _ bad _ situation,” she replied behind her own risen paw.

“Perhaps so,” he sighed, “I should thank my lucky stars that  _ you’re  _ here, in any case, and bringing with you enough paws to get us back on schedule. I must say, that lion friend of yours has proven himself quite a boon and I wouldn’t mind commending him as such.”

The gray rabbit beamed, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind that, either. So, where do you need me?”

“Last I checked, there’s a bit of confusion a few blocks over about some of the moving trucks and their belongings. Other than that, keep your ears open and follow your intuition. I recall Bonnie saying that you have quite a way with empathy and right now we need those Knotash rabbits  _ calmed _ . Can you do that for us?”

Judy hid her surprise rather well with an officer’s salute, “Sir!” He saluted back, proudly and gratefully smiling before he called out for and approached Bo Briar on the other side of the truck.  _ I didn’t think Mom spoke about me being a reflector too often… _ Judy wondered and tapped her chin while bracing a cocked hip. She looked about at the scattered moving vans, at least what she could see over the waves of twitching ears, and then up at a newly appeared Lanny, walking around from the front of the vehicle.

“There’s a lot of anxiety here,” the lion observed, using his paw to protect his nocturnal eyes as they adjusted to the bright lights, “I can just about smell it.”

“Hey, Lanny,” Judy considered, smiling as she remembered something about him, “I’ll need your help with something… and to ask a  _ huge _ favor…”

He quirked a brow and cocked a grin, “Sure, Judy, anything.”

“It will involve the moving of heavy objects and -- just for tonight -- would you be willing to answer to ‘Leo’?” she tentatively asked, “Your name  _ is _ ‘Leonardo’, after all.”

Lanny’s brow further quirked with his faltering grin, “Okay… why?” he began to ask and then his face softened in thought as he bit his bottom lip, paws on both hips to tap one finger against his denim, “This has to do with… that one superstition -- or, the ‘Tenet’ -- you told me about today, a lion with the same name as royalty? Since ‘Leo’ could be short for ‘Leonardo’ or ‘Leodore’, as in ex-Mayor Lionheart,” he continued, even smirking a bit.

“Yes,  _ exactly _ !” she confirmed and clapped her paws,  _ He must be listening more to his Dawson to have concluded that with so little data _ , Judy wondered, “It seems trivial in the run of things, but even something like that could keep these bunnies just this side of pandemonium.”

“I suppose if it’s only for tonight, it shouldn’t be too big of an issue,” he chuckled and wheeled an arm to stretch it out with a beaming grin, “Do you need me to lift furniture or the moving vans?” the lion teased.

She laughed politely, “Just the furniture, for now. And maybe look kind of…  _ in charge _ ? Normally I wouldn’t advocate impressing oneself onto smaller mammals, such intimidation tactics are unsightly in day-to-day practices but from the sounds of it…” Judy pondered, her ears swiveling about, “I think Mr. Barley would welcome someone…  _ regal _ , so long as it’s handled with care.”

“So… King Richard,  _ not _ Prince John,” he clarified.

“Right! A ‘servant of the kingdom’, as it were.”

“Of course, if another lion comes along I’ll need to do some posturing,” he joked and puffed out his chest.

“Don’t worry, I know how alphas work. Alright, let’s go do some good,” determined Judy.  _ Oh, it looks like Bo’s part of another group _ , she noticed and waved to him as he walked off to whatever Mr. Barley assigned him,  _ No matter, we’ve already got plenty of ‘authority’ between the two of us. _

“ _ Do _ you?” mused Lanny as he walked alongside, his an easy stride to her brisk scurry, “I thought bunnies didn’t have alphas.”

“ _ We _ don’t but there are plenty in the city to observe,” she pointed out, keeping both eyes and ears open and noting how the swathes of rabbits -- what ones were on the sidewalk and not inside buildings cleaning or packing -- gave the lion plenty of space,  _ And maybe not simply because of his size. I can’t deny that Lanny’s certainly got a swagger to him when he wants it, so different from when he’s being polite and reserved. Is that also because of his Dawson or is this just how he always is? _ “Okay, right over here…” Judy directed with a pointing finger.

What greeted them were two sides of an argument that didn’t butt heads over who was in the right but rather the dilemma of two polite individuals meeting at a crossroad.

“The third van could be used for the  _ excess _ of what cannot fit in the first two!” insisted one rabbit.

“Indeed  _ possible _ , but all three vans are better utilized to categorize what is to go in them in the first place!” suggested another.

Either stopped their bickering when all present ears reached for the sky at the realization that they were soon joined by a rather large predator.

“Listen up, everybunny!” Judy declared with a succinct double-thump of her foot, standing immediately in front of Lanny (who remained otherwise quiet if substantially prominent), “Categorization is  _ crucial _ but we don’t have a lot of time,” she began, “These three vans will need to fit as many items as possible without breaking anything, additionally, they’ll need to be utilized by everyone on this street. So, get your labels and your markers to designate what belongs to whom. Be sure to keep a manifest of which van you’re possessions are going in, too, to be retrieved on your return to Knotash.

“If there are any concerns, find my friend ‘Leo’; I’ll be nearby,” she further instructed with a thumb thrust upwards at a succinctly waving lion, and then clapped her paws with a broad smile, “Okay, I’ll tell everybunny else, so let’s get started and go home!” A soft response of gratitude pattered throughout those present, and from some were sheets of papers produced along with pens and clipboards while others had the sticky labels and markers requested.

Judy put both paws to her hips as the chaos of directionless worry began shifting to an orderly bedlam. “Onto the next one,” she instructed her leonine companion, rising up onto her tiptoes to squint over the forest of ears of swiftly working rabbits, “Umm…” she awkwardly vocalized, “Do you see anything…  _ problematic _ , I guess?”

“I see moving vans and rabbits,” replied Lanny, and then stooped down to hold out his paw, “Hop up, I’ll give you a better vantage point.”

“Oh no, I  _ couldn’t _ -!” she declined as politely as possible.

He chuckled and smirked, “It’s not even a problem, Judy, you’re no lighter than a lion cub and you were riding on Bo’s shoulders at the fair today, weren’t you? I don’t see how  _ I’m _ any different,” the lion coyly pointed out.

_ Well, aside from size and species I suppose it’s not, but if he’s offering then it wouldn’t be demeaning… and it would be a better vantage point like he said,  _ Judy rationalized and bit her bottom lip for a split-second before mounting the palm,  _ And oh my gosh, since he’s a breath-of-life nurse, does that mean he has lion cubs crawling over him on a regular basis? How cute, and just like Bo, too! Little bunnies climb over him all the time, _ “That sounds reasonable,” she accepted and rode up, up,  _ up _ until alighting onto the mountainous shoulder.

“Just don’t yank on my mane,” the lion requested, “You steady?”

Her paw wrapped carefully around a thick lock of the scarlet shag and braced her stance, “About as steady as I can be,” Judy reported, ears erecting and scanning, eyes looking about, “Okay, over that way,” she steered, and then added, “Please.”

The lion’s chest shook as he chuckled and strode off, careful still of those underfoot, “How  _ did _ you get them into line so quickly? They might be bunnies but for all intents and purposes, they’re pretty much strangers to you.”

“I’m glad you asked,” Judy answered,  _ As it also demonstrates an awareness that not all bunnies are the same _ , “What I suggested wasn’t the most  _ efficient  _ way to go about it, but it might be the safest because it’s giving everyone something to do. Like Mr. Barley said, we need these rabbits  _ calmed _ \-- and purposeful group tedium does wonders for a worried rabbit, or any prey species, really. It gets them working towards a common goal and from there, allows them to better see what  _ they _ know they need to do to accomplish it.”

“And  _ you  _ knew they’d have labels and markers because…” he took a moment to ponder, “they’re supposed to be running Preds’ Corner while everyone else is out?”

“Well put, so of course they’d have an overabundance of office supplies,” she explained, and then clapped the shoulder she stood upon, “Plus, it helped to have someone to… just kind of  _ spook  _ them but only enough to get their attention, and once that was accomplished drawing notice to myself gave them somebunny to rely on,” and then smugly added, “A little trick I learned from Nick.”

A sidelong grin addressed the rabbit on his shoulder, “That was some stellar alpha behavior, Judy.”

Her ears flushed with a dismissive wave of her paw, “What?  _ No _ , that was just…  _ leadership _ skills, or the demonstration thereof. Anyway!” she hurriedly pointed out, and then instructed, “Set me down here, please.

“Listen up, everybunny!” Judy called out to the rapt faces and focusing ears of an especially flustered group, “We’ll be using the moving vans around the Corner to get as much in each of them as quickly as possible, and to do this you’ll need to label your belongings and keep track of which vans you’ll be using!”

“But Miss Hopps!” said another Knotashian bunny, “When we moved our desks inside last week we had our crews get it in through the window because they wouldn’t fit around a bend in the hallway without damaging the walls,” they pointed out, “We cannot lift it out  _ now _ , the paperwork to get the machinery here would be absolutely  _ atrocious _ and it wouldn’t even happen tonight! We’d be  _ stranded _ !”

Each rabbit looked up to the nearby, speaking lion, “Just bring them towards the window and I’ll lift them out myself,” he instructed in a steady tone and a cordial smile.

“We’ll focus on  _ that  _ first,” Judy further instructed, “Getting everything out and onto the street is  _ paramount _ so that the cleaning crews can finish up inside as soon as possible.”

Gratitude and productivity were once more practiced by the Knotash bunnies as the plan was enacted. Each set of long-ears were busied with identifying what was whose and manifests made for every van and every fluffle. Lanny’s strength, while not the core of the operation, did prove a pivotal asset to the removal of larger furniture and other such items when the bunnies were too worried that something might get scuffed on the way out the door, and it gave them the opportunity to return everything to how they found it (which was documented beforehand and would be destroyed afterwards, as per protocol).

Gray ears caught the sounds of a bus puttering along the town’s edge on their way to the next issue,  _ The cruise-goers are already back… I hope Mr. Barley is ready to handle them should they come down to see what all is up _ , Judy considered.

“Judy!” called the voice of a familiar Bo Briar, arriving in a dash after her and Lanny’s fourth stop, “We’ve got an issue; I’ll tell you on the way.”

“Ravens?” she asked as they scurried alongside the striding lion to where the brown bunny directed them, arriving at an alleyway near  The Brambles Notary and Records ,  _ This is the building where Nick said that the Gravedigger was in… _ she remembered, standing at the entrance to squint but unable to make out anything through the shadows, for the floodlights did not reach down there, not near a building still bound in yellow crime scene tape. “Lanny?” she asked of he whose night vision was so much better than hers as her ears scanned the darkness,  _ I can hear soft bird sounds from within but I wouldn’t want to cause a panic by shining anything bright. _

“I see them…” he relayed, “They’re on  _ everything _ … and there’s an especially large bump in the center of it all, near the back…”

“We’ve already tried honking car horns and shooting headlights down there but they barely react, much less  _ move _ ,” Bo told, “I’ve  _ never  _ seen an unkindness this big before…”

“We should tell Mr. Barley-”

“He already knows, that’s why he sent me to find  _ you _ ,” the brown bunny said and then rubbed his neck, “And… because it was supposed to be my task to prevent anything raven-related.”

Judy crossed her arms in thought and slowly tapped her foot. “They’re probably Mallupe’s, he’d be the only one in the area with this many  _ trained _ ravens,” she thought aloud, and then to herself,  _ That’s why they didn’t scare off to that honking horn I heard earlier _ , “Which means they might have something to do with Nick…”

Like a pebble into a still pond did the ravens then react in a rippling of pitch feathers, soft cawing whispering through the air until it was a chorus of one word:  **_Nick_ ** . Like a stone that strikes a mountainside pile did the ravens then cascade with a second word to join the first:  **_Answer_ ** . Like a boulder that rolls across a road did the ravens then startle those listening with a third word:  **_Roam_ ** .

“‘Nick’…” Judy repeated.

“‘Answer’,” Bo continued.

“ _ ‘Roam’ _ ?” Lanny wondered, “Is this a riddle?”

Judy was already on her phone and typing out a text message, “Alright, Slick, you get your tail down here and fix this,” she huffed and then pulled up  Zoogle after the digital missive whisked off into the ether with a satisfactory chime, “How is it that fox can cause so much trouble and not even be in the vicinity when it’s happening?”  _ Not that I expect him to actually come down here… not when he’s got plenty of family trouble to deal with right now _ , she sighed and rubbed her head,  _ ‘Answer: roam’…  _ “Nick said that the ravens can’t say very long messages, so Mallupe must teach some of them parts of it… this could be an inside-thing that I wouldn’t even be privy to… We might have to work this out ourselves because I  _ very  _ sure that Ed Mallupe isn’t available for questioning.”

“So it  _ is  _ a riddle,” Lanny determined and then gestured to the large mass in the center, far down the alleyway, “Maybe… they’ll give us whatever they’re hiding under there if we say the answer…  _ or _ I could just go in and take it.”

“Ill-advised,” Bo warned the lion, “These ravens are probably protecting it and I’d prefer a solution that doesn’t result in your eyes pecked out. Those beaks are meant for picking a carcass  _ clean _ and this many of them could cause some real damage, even to someone  _ your _ size. We just need to solve the riddle.”

“‘Roam’,” Judy pondered and studied the search engine on her phone,  _ I could ask  _ _ Zoogle _ _ and probably get all sorts of synonyms for ‘roam’ but I need something a bit cleverer than that… Dawson! _

“Ma’am,” responded the red-fur, green-eyed rabbit of her Night Howler-induced hallucination on the most peripheral edge of her vision, Nick’s voice as clear as ever. He was still in a prim and proper butler’s outfit… if looking a little disheveled. Every time she brought him up his attire looked more and more devil-may-care and it likely wouldn’t be long before he wouldn’t show up at all. Despite the clarity that the imaginary rabbit gave her thoughts, Judy also knew that his mere presence meant the  _ midnicampum holicithias _ drug was very much still in her system.

_ Analyze ‘roam’ for wordplay along with historical, cultural, or mythical significance, and cross-reference it with ‘foxes’ or ‘wolves’ _ , she pondered, eyes hooded as she cradled an elbow and rubbed her chin.

“Ju-?” Lanny began to ask but was politely hushed by Bo, either voice like a distant echo.

“She’s  _ thinking _ ,” he whispered excitedly, “Been like this since yesterday, will go into a kind of…  _ trance _ , almost like she’s communicating with spirits.”

“How fantastical,” the lion joked and then squatted down.

“I found a few things,” Dawson said, “‘Roam’ is a reverse pronunciation of ‘more’, so a possible answer might be ‘less’ or ‘fewer’ to reflect its opposite. Secondly, ‘roam’ could be a reference to the ancient predator empire of ‘Roarme’ or  _ ‘Roarma’ _ , and it is often used as a shortened form; of note, its military was comprised mostly of wolves. Thirdly, ‘roam’ is an anagram of ‘ _ amor _ ’ which translates to ‘love’ in several languages which can then be an anagram of ‘vole’; possibly a reference to ‘Jerry Vole’, whose song  _ ‘Arrivederci Roarma’ _ was one of his most well known.”

_ Hmm… _ pondered Judy,  _ that’s a pretty strong link but I can’t imagine what an answer like that would be, _ and then cupped her mouth to say, “‘Less’!” but the ravens did not respond… neither Lanny nor Bo hardly responded, “‘Fewer’?” she tried again but with similar results. She huffed, “Maybe not the right kind of wordplay…” she wondered aloud.

“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Bo.

“We’ll brainstorm puns later. Hey Bo, you’re a huge history buff, is there any connection with the ancient Roarman Empire and foxes?”

“Oh! Its military was comprised of  _ wolves _ , that’s right, so it could connect with Mallupe  _ that _ way, couldn’t it…” the brown bunny recalled.

“And its gladiator arena of lions…” Lanny offhandedly mentioned.

“But aside from the same views that most ancient societies have of foxes, I really can’t think of how that might stand out,” Bo admitted.

“No, so myths or legends about Roarman foxes?”

“No…” he began, paused, and then awkwardly groaned, “There’s debate about  _ which _ ancient empire it came from, but I remember someone called the ‘Teumessian Fox’, who was utterly  _ enormous _ and yet destined to never be caught. Well, there was one figure (who might represent the wolf connection) called ‘Laelupes’ who was destined to catch anything she hunted. Their destinies created a paradox when they confronted and so were turned to stone in an eternal chase.”

“That’s worth a try… although I’m not sure how  _ Nick _ would know that. Go ahead,” she offered.

“Alright,” Bo accepted, and then cupped his mouth to say, “‘Teumessian’!” and then, “‘Laelupes’!” but with equal effects. He huffed and scratched behind an ear, “It  _ was _ a long shot, after all.”

The lion’s tail whisked behind them all as he thought aloud, “Maybe we’re over-thinking this. It could be a word-association and we’d go through the entire dictionary but never get it,” he explained, “So, what if ‘roam’ isn’t the riddle?”

Violet eyes brightened some, “And what if we’re looking for something that’s not really there? I doubt the ravens would send a  _ riddle _ , per se, they’d send a  _ message _ perhaps disguised as a riddle. ‘Roam’ might be part of it, along with ‘Nick’ and ‘answer’.”

“‘Nick-answer-roam’, then?” Bo quietly enunciated as a single word.

“The ravens don’t seem to always be saying it in that order, though,” Judy noticed,  _ They’ve quieted down, I guess, but haven’t shut up since they started… _

“In which case it might not matter, so… I guess ‘roam’ and ‘answer’ could be ‘romancer’?” Bo warily suggested, “That’s the only word  _ I _ can think of but what about ‘Nick’?”

“‘Nick the Romancer’?” Lanny playfully scoffed.

“Nick… romancer…” Judy quietly pondered before suddenly blurting out, “‘Necromancer’?”

The world teetered on a single degree of its turning in the quiet which followed; a gale then riled as thousands of wings at once took flight into a grim brume. Judy covered her face at the ebony cyclone of feathers and talons that whipped about the alley, only daring to peek out through shielding arms. The great mass at the end of the alleyway shifted and morphed to spread its plumage of judge’s robes to reveal itself as a huge, wizened raven, huger than any before it, and from its scythe-like beak it cawed a single word:  **_“NECROMANCER.”_ ** With its omen delivered it beat the air and shot up to rejoin its unkindness and disappear into the night sky, which wholly welcomed its ebony kin, leaving only a veil of inky feathers behind… and a large, long, metal case. The three stared at it and it cast a dark sheen, indeed.

“That’s…” Judy managed to say as she lowered her arms.

“‘Necromancer’…” Bo repeated, lowering his own arms from their protective embrace of Judy, “In the archaic days of ‘magic’, necromancy was the darkest practice for the ‘spells’ used parts harvested from the dead. In modern times, ‘necromancers’ are exaggerated to raise undead servants and the like,” he explained, “But… it’s a name also given to those whose business was to desecrate burial places for those same components, along with ‘graverobbers’ and…”

“‘Gravediggers’…” Lanny concluded as he removed his own protective embrace from the rabbits, “Nick said that Doug’s rifle case  _ would _ be nearby…”

Once more, the world hung on a single pendulum swing before Judy stopped herself from taking a step forward. “This is still a crime scene,” she determined and took out her police badge to attach it at her waist before whipping out her phone again to type another message to Nick, “Hurry back, Slick,” she wished and sent off the missive.

“Guys?” Lanny said as he craned his neck over a shoulder, “There’s a bunch of nervous bunnies on the other side of the street…”

“I’ll send a text to Bogo,” Judy said,  _ I did get his number from Nick, after all, _ and then tucked her phone away, “If I can get permission to handle that case, this can go a lot smoother. Right now, I need to address this crowd.” To do so, Judy walked out with authority and grace, flanked by a member of the Burrow Watch and a very large lion, “Everybunny, if I could have your attention, please…”

* * *

Not too long ago, Chief Bogo… or rather,  _ Arthur _ Bogo was in his sunset-kissed, Downtown apartment, sprawled in comfortable evening attire instead of his ZPD uniform, horned head propped up by the arm of his sofa with a leg thrown over the back (the corners of which were lower than the middle to accommodate the horns and antlers of lengthwise loungers). After all, he’d spent the last twenty-two hours at the precinct and needed to go home to water his plants. The television screen reflected off his languid eyes before his neck craned to peer at the stumping assortment of unofficial documents spread across his kitchen table… and sighed. He didn’t like being stumped.

So, Art kept the TV running as he rose from his lethargy (and fixed his shirt) to lumber back to the investigative process of banging his head against the (unofficial) evidence until its secrets revealed themselves. Stopping short of his chair, the buffalo scanned the photographs of his two most infuriating (yet efficient) cops on the force: Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde. And he snorted. And he plummeted his haunches into a chair of his kitchen table to mull everything over (again).

_ Problem: _ A new Night Howler drug was tested in Bunnyburrow during  _ the _ biggest event of the generation, the Tri-Burrow Reunion.

_ Resolution: _ The whipped cream in which the drug was hidden was swapped out and disposed of, with evidence delivered to Sheriff Rachel Longmare. No casualties.

_ Problem: _ Nick Wilde, Judy Hopps, and Esther Grey were abducted and the evidence stolen from the sheriff’s office to be used as leverage to continue the NH drug test.

_ Resolution: _ Nick Wilde escaped his abductors and saved Esther Grey, intercepted Burrow Watch member Bo Briar and Gideon Grey at the TBR to prevent the test  _ again _ ; Nurse Lanny Wild was kept on standby with NH antidote in case of accidental ingestion. Judy Hopps escaped her abductors and returned to Bunnyburrow. Casualties: abductors Tad Wooler and Dent Wooler, no serious injuries.

_ Problem: _ Doug Ramses, a.k.a. “Mr. Graves”, crawls out of hiding to apply the aforementioned leverage on Gideon Grey, and then assaults Nick Wilde after the drug test is a bust.

_ Resolution: _ Gideon Grey got a hold of the ZPD to report the incident; Nick Wilde and Lanny Wild ambushed Doug Ramses and handed him over to Sheriff Rachel Longmare. Casualties: Doug Ramses, no serious injuries.

Art grumbled. Nothing new that time. Judy was as much a commonality as Nick. Everything was resolved and all that remained were the official reports… in triplicate. Everything was fine.

Just. Fine.

Except there was still no  _ motive _ for someone like Doug Ramses to come out of hiding. Or for an upstanding citizen like Magnus Hopps to instigate such a  _ horrendous _ series of events (if Nick and Judy’s detective work was to be believed, which it often was).

And then Art saw those green eyes of Nick’s. Those same green eyes burned into his memory by the so-called “Mr. Foxglove” from thirty-four years ago… Art didn’t like coincidences, no cop worth their salt  _ does _ but he’d already bled the stone of Nathan DeCoyote’s newest apprentice at the time, who was also a green-eyed fox: John Wilde. He had a solid alibi for that night, a cribbage game with some neighborhood friends in Conifer District, miles away from where Mr. Foxglove “invited” then Officer Bogo to a “soirée” down at Lions Gate. Again, he was reminded of those green eyes that mocked him before disappearing forever… but they were not the same green eyes of the John Wilde he finally managed to catch up with on the street outside of DeCoyote’s. John was shy, awkward, funny, ingratiating… Mr. Foxglove was suave, cocky, provocative… about as alpha as a fox  _ could _ be if there were such as a thing as an alpha-fox. Nick’s eyes were also green, sharp, saw a subtle layer beneath the obvious that Bogo didn’t… that most of the precinct didn’t…

A thought crossed Art’s mind as his own, brown eyes studied the photographs of Judy’s optimistic justice and Nick’s critical smugness. “What if it’s not about  _ them _ ?” he wondered, “Ramses has a definite bone to pick, but maybe it’s not that obvious?” He recalled his phone call with Gideon Grey, a fox  _ so _ pivotal to Doug Ramses that the Pred Scare Sniper risked his shadow status by pinning the baker down in his own house and forcing him to make more toxic whipped cream. Art held the image up in one hoof with his cheek in the other, “What’s so important about  _ you _ ?” he asked aloud, “Just some farm-fox that never left the countryside… maybe you bullied the wrong lamb at school, huh?”

The notes about Mr. Grey didn’t help much either. GED from a remedial class for “young, troubled predators”. Associate of Occupational Studies for the Culinary Arts from a night class at the local community college, the so-called “Bunnyburrow University”. Parents: Goliath and Ruth; a carpenter and upholsterer, respectively, lived in the same spot for thirty-plus years in good standing with the local predator community. Sister: Esther; straight-A student left home to practice law in the city. Cousin: Nick Wilde; needs no introduction. “Maybe someone didn’t like that your sister kept Lionheart out of federal prison or your cousin’s sordid past,” he postulated, “except  _ they _ were abducted for leverage on  _ you _ , weren’t they, so that can’t be it.”

Art leaned in and put on his glasses to study the portrait of the blue-eyed fox. “Never left Bunnyburrow… and only left The Brambles last year to open up a bakery with the Hoppses, I think Judy said…” to which he hummed as it rolled about in his head, “Seems like an awful lot of trouble for a private grievance;  _ too _ much trouble, what with the felony charges that’d come of it…” he considered and then put his phone onto the table to call someone with the speaker on.

“Hi, Chief!” the ever-joyous Officer Benjamin Clawhauser chimed.

“Hi Benny,” Art answered, “Where are you right now?”

“In the archives, and I’ll burnin’ midnight oil like a  _ boss _ ,” he giggled, “Oh oh oh! Is this official?”

“Not as such.”

“Okay, you know I have to ask, you being off duty and everything.”

“Of course,” Art abided, “Listen, you spoke with Gideon Grey, right?”

“I  _ did~ _ ”

“I don’t suppose you happened to find out anything of  _ interest _ on him… did you?” he insinuated.

“ _ May _ ~be,” Clawhauser implied.

“Was there anything at  _ all _ that stood out about him? Doesn’t have to be recent, it could be something from his life in Bunnyburrow.”

“Well, I didn’t go  _ that _ far, only what I could work out of Legrande at the sheriff’s office,” the cheetah paused, “Stuff I remember Judy or Esther told me about in the past months… Nothing  _ official _ , of course, or private, because I don’t kiss-&-tell… to turn a phrase,” he then snickered.

“So… he could probably be tracked from birth to present day, then?” Art sighed, “What about summer camps, school field trips, family vacations?”

“Uhh…” Clawhauser worried, “Nothing comes to mind… like I said,  _ I _ haven’t heard anything, you’ll need to ask the Grey family for that kind of thing. Why, what’s wrong?” and gasped high, “Is Gideon in trouble again?”

The buffalo nonchalantly groaned his thinking process, “It’s just…” he picked up his phone and turned off the speaker, “I’m not going over this case independently or anything,” Art assured with an affirming grunt from the uniformed cheetah, “ _ but _ call it cop’s intuition that Gideon  _ might _ be the only thing connecting certain  _ other _ things in Bunnyburrow, currently.” He then waited patiently for the officer on the other end of the line to process the information.

“Well…” Clawhauser finally said, “I remember  _ one _ thing…”

“Is it interesting?”

“So, Judy didn’t tell me this in confidence or anything, but Gideon was  _ her _ bully back in grade school and then he scratched her when she was… nine, I think… yeah, she was nine. And then he went to see a therapist for… three weeks? And when he got back he was expelled-”

Art’s brow pinched severely. “Wait, ‘got back’? Was he sent  _ away  _ to therapy?”

“Yeah, for three weeks, like I said,” Clawhauser confirmed.

“‘Three weeks’…” the buffalo repeated, looking again at Gideon’s picture as he held the phone away from his ear a bit.

“Chief?”

“If Judy was  _ nine _ that’d be… sixteen years ago, at least…” Art calculated, “A predator was sent to therapy for three weeks…”

The uniformed cheetah verbally staggered, “Uh, heh!  _ Chief _ , when you put it like  _ that _ it almost sounds like Gideon went to-”

“Pred-therapy,” Bogo coolly finished and put the phone back to an ear, unconvinced though he sounded of his own speculation, even if it  _ was _ the specific amount of time for any so-called “treatment” before the PredaTherp scandal shut it all down twelve years prior, “but that-”

“But that’s  _ crazy _ !” Clawhauser desperately argued (yet also agreed, somehow), almost rasping into the phone, “I know that you, as a prey, wouldn’t really think it’s any kind of a big deal,” he then quickly added, “Not that I’m saying you aren’t aware of the plights of predators or anything! It’s just that it’s not for  _ kids  _ it’s for  _ felons _ , which I  _ know _ you know, of course you know but there is  _ no _ way -- not in a  _ hundred _ years -- that  _ any _ one would send a kit to…  _ to… _ ” he cleared his throat a few times, “You know _ … _ to see…  _ her _ …” Clawhauser breathily finished.

Arthur’s eyebrows perked as he glanced at his phone, relaxing in his seat while putting his hoof up to his mouth to whisper back, “‘Her’  _ who _ , Benny?”

“I’m not supposed to say her name out loud…”

The buffalo sighed, “Clawhauser, you’re not a cub anymore,” he paused and corrected himself, “It might help Gideon if I knew who this was since  _ I’ve _ never heard of any ‘She-who-must-not-be-named’ growing up in a prey community. If you’d rather, I could just ask Danny tomorrow… actually, I wonder why he never told me about this before…

“Clawhauser?” Art inquired after a significant silence, “…Benny?”

“S-Sorry, Chief!” he finally said, “I just… it’s not an easy subject and I needed to breathe into a paper bag before I passed out but I’m okay now! I am okie-dokie karaoke, so, uhh… Right, her name, umm…”

“Benny,” Art repeated, switching the phone to his other ear, perhaps only then realizing the severity of what he asked, “I understand if you’re not comfortable talking about it, I do… PredaTherp  _ is  _ what finally brought Hemion in, you know… eventually, at least.” He heaved a tumultuous sigh after bringing up  _ that _ tender subject… Art didn’t need to remind the son of his mentor about the history between his corrupted predecessor and his late father, Captain Lawrence Bogo.

“Yeah… okay, I think I can handle saying her name out loud…” the uniformed cheetah reconciled and then took several deep breaths.

The buffalo readied a pen to his notepad, “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Her name was…” he said, whimpered some, and then whispered so low and raspily that it sounded like the phone was nearly inside his mouth, “Dr. Cleopatra Lapis,” and then made the noise which the buffalo recognized as him shrinking back into his seat.

“‘Lapis’…” Art curiously repeated and then underlined the surname, “Like Felix Oswald Lapis? Is she a  _ bunny _ ?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” Clawhauser shakily admitted, “But that’s her name… she ‘made bad preds good’ but I think she disappeared, like,  _ ages _ before PredaTherp.”

“Alright, thank you, Benny, you’ve been a  _ great _ help,” the buffalo said and jotted down a few more notes, “Don’t work  _ too  _ hard, okay?”

“You got it, Chief!” Benny answered with all of his salvaged cheer.

Art ended the call and put his phone face-down… and then thoughtfully tapped the back with the tip of his hoof-knuckle. He needed to know more about a name that, if he dared to poke around, would only draw more and more unwanted attention. And yet… he couldn’t deny that there was a single, viable method at his disposal… a degree of viability that was a meager hair’s breadth away from wishing for an answer. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he grumbled and rose from the table to fetch a business card from his wallet:

**Officer Nick Wilde**

“I know everybody”

He returned to his table to check the phone number and note written on the back:

_ Good for one favor _

_ no questions, no strings _

The number was unlisted, of course; so of course, Art was wary to receive it but it was a birthday present from Nick and, according to Judy, “He’s the absolute  _ worst _ when it comes to gifts, so it’d mean a lot if you accepted it”. It took several minutes of careful thought back then for Chief Bogo -- in the privacy of his office -- to slip the card into his wallet and took several minutes currently for Arthur -- in the privacy of his home -- to utilize it. “I’m going to regret this,” he lowed and tapped the green call button with his thumb, “but let’s see if you  _ really  _ ‘know everybody’.”

It rang. Each digital bell tested Arthur’s resolve.

It rang. Every warning and caution against trusting foxes -- especially  _ favors _ from foxes -- likewise rang between the buffalo’s ears. He couldn’t  _ not _ hear them, not when they were thrown at him his entire life and despite his best efforts to think better than that.

It rang. Mr. Foxglove popped to the forefront of his mind… he imagined that slick fox sitting on the other side of his kitchen table, watching him from over an old-fashioned phone ringing off the hook… and flashing that same, accursed, smug grin… For an instant, that vulpine phantom from his days as a beat-cop resembled Nick…

Someone picked up. Someone with a voice-scrambler. “Yo’.”

“Hi,” Arthur sternly responded.

“Ask away.”

The buffalo’s black nostrils flared and huffed as he steadied himself, operating on the assumption that “one favor” equated to one question, so he had to make it  _ count _ … “What happened to Dr. Cleopatra Lapis?”

What followed left him utterly dumbfounded for a solid half-minute: the call ended abruptly. He gawked at the phone and its droning dial tone and then numbly tapped the bright red button to hang up his side of it. Art wasn’t sure  _ what _ to expect… and so flicked the business card and its singular “favor” over his shoulder with all the disdain and apathy he could muster. “Not the  _ worst _ birthday gift ever, I suppose,” the buffalo critiqued and set his phone down but the device had not touched table when he heard the merry chime of a text. Art’s wrist bent back as he resisted the urge to look at the screen. “Fool me  _ twice _ …” he warned, sucked his teeth into his bottom lip, and then addressed the message:

**UNKNOWN**

**1 attachment**

Art opened the file and when the photo’s loading animation finished spinning, his jaw slacked but lips pursed and eyebrows quirked with ears pointed akimbo… if his horns were at  _ all _ expressive then they might have also done something to broadcast his astonishment. “‘Mrs. Cleopatra  _ Hopps _ ’…?” Bogo doubted while studying the text and accompanying picture of the fair-furred bunny and her husband, none other than, “ _ Magnus _ Hopps…” He knew  _ of _ the Knotash power-couple but little else, “If they  _ are _ related to Judy, would they have shipped a fox kit off to pred-therapy as retribution for hurting her…?”

He knew that Magnus was a big name in a tight community and ran the  Hopps Processing Plant in Knotash after the previous owner, Reginald Hopps retired but, “This is no mere coincidence,” Bogo decided as he pulled up his contacts list. “Alph,” Art said when the Captain of the Canine Unit of the ZPD answered.

“Art.”

“I need a favor.”

“You’ve needed many favors, as of late.”

“Yes, well… as a  _ friend _ .”

“Relax, I’ll give you all the favors you could possibly want,” the wolf on the other end teased, “Where do you need it and when?”

“The  Hopps Processing Plant ; as soon as you can get your wolves out there,” Art explained.

“Back to Knotash we go, then. Plainclothes? Under the radar?”

“Just like old times.” Bogo couldn’t help but smirk wryly at the nighttime adventures of yesteryear when he and Alphonse Kela followed clues and leads to missing children… and once again, it seemed it was a fox that helped them get there. “Except… for something else entirely.”

“What are we looking for?”

“Night howler.”

“We’ll do our best, but we’ll just be chasing our tails without Nick. Try though we might, his nose is by far more sensitive to it than ours.”

“Not just Pollen, Alph,  _ anything _ related to night howler,” he corrected with a much sterner voice, “Do what you need to do and if you find anything tell only  _ me _ . Clear?”

The wolf was quiet a moment. “Art…” he finally said, “do you remember what you told me the day you became chief?”

“‘I think someone spiked the punch’?”

“ _ Hah _ ,” he dryly laughed, “You said to let you know if you ever started sounding like Hemion.”

“…I am  _ not _ Hemion,” he growled.

“Good to hear,” Captain Kela coolly warned, “Now, let’s take it from ‘ _ anything  _ related to night howler’, shall we?”

Bogo paused again and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Right… Get in touch with your Watch connections, observe and report only. This is nothing official and we’re going to keep it that way until all our ducks are in a row.”

“Yes,  _ sir _ ,” the wolf proudly responded.

“Hey,” Art snorted, “none of that ‘sir’ stuff while I’m off duty.”

“You love it, don’t lie,” Alphonse chuckled, “Should I tell Danny about this?”

“No, he’s with his grandcubs tonight and I don’t want to take that away from him… something like this could get even  _ that _ cream-puff cursing up a storm.”

* * *

Finnick rapid-fired profanity under his breath to blanche a grizzled sailor, his lengthy ears whisking about as he paced in the workshop that Mr. Big provided for his “new job”. He thought he’d  _ finally _ had a chance to breathe after he set his code to compile for the umpteenth time that afternoon… evening; Magnus’s (compounded) firewalls were every hacker’s worst nightmare and he wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance of even approaching it without Mack’s “drawing of a key” (and there was some kind of maintenance which relaxed its security a bit, something of a shining opportunity for him).

But then he got a phone call on  _ that _ line. That phone line which Nick  _ somehow _ convinced him to set up so that  _ he _ could give out “special favors”…  _ granted _ , it gave them leverage in some of their hustles but Finnick thought it all stopped after he became a cop. But no. He had to give out  _ one _ more to the  _ Chief of Police _ . Finnick took some solace knowing that Chief Bogo would  _ never _ \-- not a  _ hundred _ years -- call that number but [profuse cursing]  _ Nick _ had to come up with another idea that worked out  _ exactly _ as it  _ shouldn’t _ , and so Finnick got a call from Chief Bogo to cash in. He  _ knew _ it was Chief Bogo because Nick told him the burner-number that he gave as the “favor” which routed directly to Finnick’s cellphone, and yes, he burned that number into digital ash, but…

_ But… _

“Why was he asking about Dr. Cle-!” the fennec fox about yelled, borderline hysteric as he could not decide if he was infuriated or terrified. He tugged his ears and sat back into a giant cushion, rubbed his eyes, and then caressed his nose with a sigh. Nick told him all about his theories concerning Dr. Cleopatra Lapis and Mrs. Clea Hopps… the fact that it was verified by Judy didn’t help any. “No matter…” the exhausted fox dismissed, hoping the picture he sent would be enough, “Bogo doesn’t know it’s me…” he then brightened a bit, “ _ Maybe _ he could actually do something about her…”

A text message popped up on Finnick’s phone. Finnick ignored it… for a solid minute before opening it. Speak of the devil, it was from Nick, and he thanked Finnick for letting him know that his parents were heading out to Bunnyburrow. It often impressed the fennec how his brother-in-bonds could express sarcasm through text, but on the same token, “I guess he really  _ did _ get my message… Whatever.” Nick had the last word and that usually shut him up.

The code finished compiling and so began the cycle anew. Code. Compile. Code. Compile. It was a headache even with multiple processes active at once. He couldn’t even have his earbuds in and listen to a podcast because the process required his full attention and yet it was not engaging enough to be interesting or challenging. The monotony was a security measure in of itself, changing only enough that an algorithm would not suffice to brute-strength through it.

“Dr. Lapis…” Finnick muttered under his breath to prick the fur on his nape. The name scared him as a kit. It scared  _ all  _ predators back then, so much so that even saying it aloud caused immediate hushing from the adults. Additionally, any association with a known, living mammal (bunny or otherwise) was brushed aside as mere coincidence. Yet somehow, the Chief of Police was tracking  _ her _ down… the  _ real _ Dr. Cleopatra Lapis. The fennec studied his phone before glancing up at the compiling code as he counted off on his fingers, “Judy… Grav… the Felix…” he pondered, recalling what Esther filled him in on about those bunnies he just named, “Still need one more voice print if this firewall is going down, which leaves Magnus, some dead guy… or Clea. If Bogo really  _ could _ find something on her, would she squawk to save her own pelt?”

Caramel eyes glanced up to the compiling code once more, brighter than they’d been all night. He remembered Uncle John’s stories about Captain Piberius Savage, Nick’s grandpa; how he felled two overwhelming adversaries by pitting them against one another and simply… got out of the way. He rubbed his mouth and allowed his dark lips to grin, “What if  _ I _ could do something like that…?” Maybe not while he was  _ also _ hacking through Magnus’s firewall but… even if there was no definite algorithm to brute-force access, maybe with the data he had thus far he could create a logic-loop that would gradually peel the layers back. It’d take longer but without the fourth voiceprint, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

The fennec’s grin spread despite himself. How satisfying it would be to finally bring the dreaded Dr. Cleopatra Lapis in after everything she did to the families of pred-therapy victims and got away without so much as a public apology due to her wider anonymity. How gratifying it would be that  _ he _ , Finnick Faire, helped the cops catch her… just like Mr. Foxglove.

Just like Mr. Foxglove, who would “do the right thing because it was the right thing to do”.

Finnick could do right by his and Nick’s kithood friend Tyler Pounceski, whose uncle was sent off to pred-therapy and came back a broken tiger… He attributed his fondness for numbers to Xander, who after his jail time for embezzlement, begged forgiveness of his brother Kristofur to help rebuild his life, a part of which was using his business acumen to tutor math to the neighborhood cubs, pups, and kits. It took an awful lot of trust from the other parents to allow that… but it proved one of the best things to happen to that little corner of Conifer District because when Xander got better he kept the ledgers of all the businesses there. At least, until he was caught again: cooked books, heavy drinking, and flying off the handle at the drop of a hat. So they tranq’d him, muzzled him, and carted him off for “treatment of his violent nature”. It was a shock for everyone, especially for Tyler, who loved him most of all.

Tiny, sandy paws balled into determined fists. “I’m gonna do it,” he quietly said, “I’m… I’m gonna be Mr. Foxglove and take down Doct-…” After choking on his own vigor, Finnick swallowed the fear instilled in him as a kit to croak out, “Dr. Cleopatra Lapis!” and then thrust both arms into the air triumphantly. Not only was he filled with confidence to reach out and make contact with Chief Bogo as an anonymous informant but he also couldn’t wait to stand up to Nick, who long ago overcame his terror of saying the name aloud (which he distinguished as the first major step to maintaining an iron composure and silver tongue in the face of things he didn’t like). An invigorating crack of the knuckles readied him to establish another, secure line with the buffalo’s phone, a headset freeing up his paws to set up the logic-loop. It didn’t take long for the other side to pick up…

“Yes?” Bogo answered.

“It’s me,” Finnick informed through his voice scrambler.

There was a significant pause to follow. “You won’t hang up again, I assume.”

“Not this time. The line is secure but I cannot say the same for wherever you’re at so expect all other calls to go directly to voicemail. It’s a… a  _ safety  _ measure.”

“Sure,” the buffalo begrudged, “Tell me what I need to know about Dr. Lapis.”

* * *

_ Why isn’t anyone picking up? _ Judy worried over her silent phone and the voicemails she left,  _ Not Bogo, not Kela… not even Finnick! _ She and the Burrow Watch were able to quell the Knotash rabbits, along with their moving and cleaning crews (those that were brave enough to cower across the street of the alleyway from which a column of ravens took flight, anyway, as opposed to keeping their heads and ears down while busy with their own tasks).  _ I would grab that case and bring it out myself but that would only contaminate the crime scene -- aside from all the birds, I mean -- and without authorization, any evidence it provides could be nullified, especially if Magnus has anything to say about it!  _ she continued to worry, remembering Nick’s idea of Doug being “on his payroll”.

“Hopps,” Payton Barley said and lowered his phone, “Sheriff Longmare will be calling you soon.”

“Thank you,” she accepted with as much of a grateful smile as she could muster,  _ At least Mr. Barley is here, plus the sheriff should be able to get a deputy to handle this which would keep everything by the book. _ Her ears sprung to the ringing of her phone, immediately answering it as she gazed at the rifle case half-bathed in floodlights, feeling as though it were, itself, at the bottom of a grave, “Ma’am?”

“Judy,” the horse said, her voice rich with exhaustion but steadied by the professional integrity that made her Bunnyburrow’s cornerstone of authority, “Payton only gave me bits and pieces. What else can you tell me about what’s going on down there?”

“I think we found Ramses’s rifle case,” she reported.

“I’d  _ love _ to hear the reasoning behind that, especially since my sniffers searched that alleyway with a fine-toothed comb,” the mare pointed out.

“Of course: according to Nick, Ramses used a special kind of cleaning wipe to remove his scent from the case, one that’s specific to more industrial activities than household; he slipped the information about the wipes --  _ not _ the connection to Ramses -- to Mallupe’s granddaughter, Mallory, who then relayed it to Edward himself; he must have then sent out his ravens to track that scent, which would explain all the unusual sightings today,” Judy exposited, “After your deputies left, the case might’ve made its way back to this alley on the idea that no one would expect to be  _ here _ . Anyway, the ravens found it and then we found the ravens but without Chief Bogo’s say-so, it might as well be a million miles away.”

“All of my deputies are tied up right now with TBR visitors… Is Bo there?” the sheriff then asked.

“Oh… he  _ is _ , yes,” Judy responded and put her paw over the phone to signal her boyfriend over with a thump-of-the-foot that she reserved for him and him alone. Short, brown ears flew up and his hazel eyes focused on Judy’s beckoning nod, so he got Lanny’s attention to bring them both over to her and Mr. Barley. “Okay,” the gray rabbit announced and put her phone on speaker, “Bo’s here.”

“Robert Briar,” the authoritative voice of Sheriff Rachel Longmare rang.

“Yes, ma’am?” he answered, shoulders squared and chest out.

“Congrats, you’re a deputy,” she succinctly stated, and rather matter-of-factly at that, “By actions both noble and brave for the betterment of Bunnyburrow’s denizens,  _ et cetera _ , you now represent the sheriff’s office; don’t muck it up,  _ capisce _ ?”

“Y- _ yes _ , ma’am!” Deputy Bo Briar responded.

“There you go, Hopps; I expect to see that gun case  _ tonight _ ,” the horse nickered and then hung up.

“Con _ grat _ ulations, young buck!” Mr. Barley cheered, affirming a swift, fatherly clap of the dazed brown rabbit’s back, “A  _ deputy _ ! This is a proud moment for the Burrow Watch, in _ deed _ . You are only the  _ fourth _ rabbit deputy in Bunnyburrow’s history and the first in several generations. I know you were born in Deerbrooke,  _ Deputy _ Briar, but I’ve long since considered you a  _ true _ -grown son of Bunnyburrow. Well!” he continued, looking about at not only Judy and Bo but also Lanny, “I can safely entrust this situation into such capable paws. Good luck, you three,” and strode off to other Burrow Watch business.

The overhead lion crouched and patted the broad, brown back, “Way to go, Bo!” he, likewise, congratulated.

“Me… a  _ deputy _ …” Bo said with a mixture of wonder and adulation, bending over some when Judy hugged around his neck and kissed his cheek.

“Emergency powers to gather evidence, Deputy Bobo,” she reminded and then hopped away to approached the lingering gawkers, “If I could have your attention just once more, please?” she announced, “Does anyone have plastic gloves and baggies?” As it was with the impeccably tidy (some might say, “germophobic”) Knotash bunnies, nearly all held up a pair of sanitary gloves while others produced zipper-locked bags. “Thank  _ you _ ,” Judy chimed as she collected two pairs of the former then a fistful of latter to scurry down the alleyway.

“Could we get a light over here?” Bo called.

“Got it,” Lanny said, picking up a floodlight as though it were a  _ flash _ light to illuminate Judy’s path, erecting it overhead to provide her all that she needed to see what she was doing.

“Appreciated, guys,” Judy once more chimed, sweetly so, as she steeled herself in the approach of the ominous case,  _ Jeez, this thing’s the size of a couch, _ the rabbit observed, “Alright, Bo, gloves on? Good. If you’d be so kind as to lay it down then I’ll handle whatever’s inside,” she assumed. Her training in evidence procedure prepared her as best it could as she popped a lock-laden latch,  _ Which… oddly isn’t locked… Lucky, I guess? _

When signaled to, Bo popped the other latch and lifted the lid, carefully throwing it back to reveal its contents; the folding brace locking into position as he took a step back to allow the city-cop unhindered access.

Violet eyes scanned everything bathed in a brutal white glow, from the disassembled rifle… to a small computer… to the fedora sitting atop a folded wolf costume, to name a few things. She stared at that wolf nose poking out from under the hat’s brim, remembering the afternoon she and Nick spent studying the single piece of evidence about the Gravedigger, comparing live wolves to wolf costumes; their investigation concluded that the photograph was, without a shadow of a doubt, of a real live wolf. The world, it seemed, tilted wrongly as Judy reached for that hat, lifting it away and setting it aside within the case. All color drained from her ears and face, likely into the very ground on which she stood, that gelatinous ground that were it to swallow her up it could not have muffled her scream any better than it catching in her throat at what she saw. Indeed, the wolf “suit” was  _ very _ lifelike… since it was made from a wolf that used to be very much alive.

“‘Necromancer’ wasn’t a riddle…” Bo choked out, “it was a  _ warning _ .”

* * *

_ “Baa, baa, ba’ad sheep _

_ What’s that in your wool? _

_ Blo’od sir, yes sir, _

_ Three ba’ags full…” _

The bleating, round-robin choruses perpetuated throughout the sheriff’s office until Rachel Longmare, the shiny-badged hoof of authority in Bunnyburrow, went to have herself a look-see on the newest tenants of her holding cells. Dennis “Dent” Wooler, a thug amongst thugs back in the city and convicted drug dealer, recognized for the distinctive chunk of horn and ear missing on the same side of his head, and for being long-winded. Thaddeus “Tad” Wooler, cousin of Dent and local pawn shop owner with a troubling past, thought to have made something decent of himself… only to betray all who believed he could leave his perversions behind… that he could let good predators have their private moments without being peeped on. And finally, Douglas “Doug” Ramses, former black-ops sniper and infamous instigator of the Pred-Scare, popping in and out of obscurity before masquerading about Preds’ Corner as a wolf whose legend of long-ranged assassinations eclipsed even  _ him _ : “The Gravedigger”.

Rachel had a long day behind her and little patience available of her substantial cache for whatever  _ mind games _ that “wayward flock” -- as visiting metropolitan cop and sleuthing fox Nick Wilde called them -- was playing. No sir, she was having  _ none _ of their shenanigans, not after the absolute mess they and their employer -- charismatic and deep-pocketed city-bunny Magnus Hopps -- had done to the dreams of a peaceful, fun TBR in  _ her _ countryside. Reports and queries were coming in when the news about a kidnapping could no longer be contained by the Tri-Burrow Reunion Board (even if those taken  _ had  _ returned safe and sound), for bunnies had long ears and weren’t shy to spread whatever it was they heard with them. So, Sheriff Longmare hitched her utility belt into place and marched down the hall of her station to sort out the ado, and what the stalwart horse noticed right off the bat was that the  _ “Baa Baa” _ -ing was sung by only two of the three incarcerated.

“Deputy Catmull,” Rachel beseeched but her right-hoof puma did not respond save for an uncharacteristic wilting and reluctance to turn his ashen face towards her; it was clear from the offset that all color was drained beneath the usually healthy tone of his fur. “Gabe,” she continued, the motherly side of her nature took the helm with all the force but little of the assertion of the badge, “What’s going on in there?”

Gabe adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, shaken eyes daring a glimpse, at last, to address his friendly superior and superior friend. “You’ll want to have a look at this, Rach,” he managed with a sternly hidden choke, paw gesturing towards the ajar door to the holding cells. He stood a moment in doubt and then held open the portal with reclaimed composure.

The droning rounds of morbid nursery rhyming stopped as the sheriff dominated the doorway. Her eyes confirmed what her ears suspected, that only two of the three rams were upright, sitting in fact upon the fold-down bed, while the third lay motionless on the floor. She expected the permeating smell of blood to repel her sensitive equine nose and her years of experience to bolster her, but she had not expected another putrid odor to join it. Rachel’s nerves shrugged off a rattling for not only what that smell was but what it and the grisly residue on Dent’s horns implied.

Doug sat hunched on one side of the bed with folded hooves. He wore only his collared shirt, and not the Prince’s Guard tee from earlier, the fanatical group looking for the Missing Prince, Simon King, son of the most powerful businessmammal in Zootopia, last seen as a cub from twenty years prior and whose visage is spread around and worn by those still in search of him; Doug wasn’t looking for him, though, only for a convenient, unknowing cover in which to escape back to the city. The white shirt with a boyishly grinning lion cub was smeared with blood, used as a rag to clean off Dent’s face and currently covering Tad’s. As for Tad, he lay belly-down on the cell’s floor, unmoving save a few dying spasms that ceased in due time, and if how the shirt draped was any indication, the back of his skull was not the same shape it was before…

“Sheriff,” said Doug.

“Ma’am,” said Dent.

Tad said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chief Bogo and Gideon spoke on the phone in Brave, chapter 10 after his second “conversation” with the then known as “Mr. Grave” (Doug Ramses).
> 
> […remedial class for “young, troubled predators”] refers back to Brave, chapter 3 when Gideon explained his time in the class called “The Lost Boys”, which is itself a Peter Pan reference.
> 
> “Three weeks” was insinuated back in Trustworthy as the standard length of time for the “predator therapy treatment”, something that Bogo, with his age and profession, would certainly be aware of.
> 
> Nick’s business card was first mentioned in Brave, chapter 5.
> 
> Xander Pounceski and his tragic backstory are alluded to in Brave, chapter 7.
> 
> Judy’s penchant for riding on Bo’s shoulders comes from Brave, chapter 6.
> 
> An “unkindness” is the name for a flock of ravens.
> 
> Judy’s Dawson first pops up in Trustworthy, chapter 20 as a rabbit-version of Nick and in chapter 4, after she wakes up, she explains to Nick this uncanny resemblance and dressing him up in a butler outfit. Dawson (Nick’s voice) converses with Judy about her escape from the Hopps Manor at the end of Brave. Earlier in Loyal, Judy realizes that she doesn’t entirely know if using her Dawson is actually making her dependent on it or burning through it faster.
> 
> Roarme/Roarma is this world’s version of the ancient Roman Empire, an idea I’m borrowing from friend and fellow author NieveLion. On that note, the Teumessian fox, or Cadmean vixen, is actually a Greek myth but I'm using it here in a sort of combination of Greek/Roman mythos since I couldn't find anything analogous on the Roman side of things. "Laelupes" is a reference to "Laelaps", the dog which hunts the fox and turned to stone along with them. In the original legend, the two are sent into the night sky as Canis Minor and Canis Major, respectively.
> 
> The afternoon spent studying the Gravedigger’s photograph was mentioned by Nick back in Brave, chapter 20.
> 
> [“Baa, baa ba’ad sheep”] is a grisly take on the “Black Sheep” nursery rhyme, for the sake of convenience, the breaking apostrophes represent elongation due to bleating and is meant to create another syllable in each line so that each has five.
> 
> The “Bad Sheep” scene was actually the first that I wrote for Loyal but it didn’t yet feel the time to drop that bombshell. The bit with the wolf-suit is also something I’ve wrestled with, wondering how and when to introduce that bit of horror. So… here they are.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the Coil of His Horns, let us receive His air to breathe  
> Ye'ea, ye'ea  
> By the Cleave of His Hoof, let us receive His grass to eat  
> Ye'ea, ye'ea  
> By the Curl of His Wool, let us receive His water to drink  
> Ye'ea, ye'ea  
> By the Oval of His Eye, let us receive His fields to graze  
> Ye'ea, ye'ea  
> By the Bell on His Neck, let us unite as one flock behind Him  
> Ye'ea, ye'ea!

Uncle John gnawed into his claws as he gawked at Gideon.

“Don’t say it,” Nick reminded.

“That’s imp-!” he belched through his fingers.

“ _ Don’t _ …” his son repeated.

“Imp-…  _ probable _ …?” Aunt Jackie meekly suggested.

“That’ll work,” Uncle John squeaked. He sat on the coffee table beside Aunt Jackie while Gideon and Ma sat on the sofa, she practically glued to her kit’s side ever since  _ she _ found out about all those scars under his pelt (and her eyes were still a bit red and puffy despite how well she held herself).

“D’you want some tea, John?” Ma offered.

“Perhaps something stronger…” he groaned in response.

“He’s taking this a lot harder than I thought he would, Stretch,” Gideon said to his cousin.

“We’ve known many who  _ survived  _ pred-therapy, yes, but no one so  _ young _ and…” Aunt Jackie said, paws moving as though to juggle her meanings, “still able to take care of themselves… Aslan’s mane, Gid, you run your own  _ business _ !”

“Well, it ain’t  _ jus’ _ me, the Hoppses are a big part of it,” he bashfully dismissed, “and it’s not like I’m rakin’ in the bucks or anything, I’m jus’ gettin’ by.”

Uncle John’s tail wheeled as he lunged up and bent over to cup Gideon’s surprised face, “Giddy, my dear kit, I don’t think you quite grasp what a  _ stupendously _ high bar ‘just getting by’  _ is _ to someone who lived through pred-therapy,” he said, arms then spread with triumph and incredulity, “Adults,  _ stable _ adults came out of the full ‘treatment’ only to break down into tears because they were bested by a  _ doorknob _ . I’m not even exaggerating; I knew of a weasel that went  _ hysterical _ and tried to claw their way through a door!” he relayed, “ _ Every _ motor skill becomes a monumental challenge… and yet you drive, you use a smartphone, you  _ bake _ …” he then knelt and gripped the paw of the younger Grey tod, “Giddy, you are a  _ phenomenon _ .”

Blue eyes blinked in a momentary stun,  _ I’m pretty sure tha’s a good thing? _ he guessed and smiled a bit awkwardly, “Well… don’t go putting my name up in lights or anything, that ain’t what I want to be known for if I  _ am _ known for anything. Would much rather my  _ pies _ be what brings me fame and such.”

“As would I, definitely; that one tonight was  _ divine _ ,” Uncle John assured (and Nick nodded in agreement from his lounging position in the armchair) as he rose to sit on the coffee table again, if leaning forward, “I can say with certainty that you don’t or won’t remember what happened in those three weeks but if you happen to recall how you might have… held onto who you were before you went in, I would  _ love  _ to hear about it.”

“John!” both vixens rebuked, Ma gripping her kit tighter while Aunt Jackie’s tail struck her mate true. Nick clapped palm to face.

_ I guess I’m the only one not put off by that… _ Gideon thought, “I don’t mind, really,” he said to the others, “It’s not like Uncle John meant it as  _ mean _ or anything. As it is, I don’t remember what happened, at least, in my  _ waking _ hours since it all comes and goes as bad dreams. Until Sunday night, anyway. Oh, Ma!” he then cheerfully continued, twisting in his seat to face the less-glowering vixen, “I had me another of them dreams like when I was kit, meeting that big lion in the woods. Remember? Well, I haven’t had a night terror since  _ and _ I don’t claw up my pillows in my sleep anymore.”

“Oh, another of Aslan’s visits? How  _ wonderful _ !” Ma delighted, both paws stroking her kit’s cheeks, “A sign of better things to come, I’d say.”

“Ah, splendid,” Aunt Jackie concurred in merriment.

“Hey Bangs,” Nick said, pivoting where he sat for a more upright position, “D’you mind if I ask about…  _ you _ know…?”

_ About…? Oh! I guess he means Lenny… _ Gideon realized and shrugged with uncertainty, but it seemed  _ that _ was all his cousin needed as permission.

“So,” Nick quickly and suavely said, leaning on the arm a bit, “Who here knows of ‘Lenny’? Lion cub, about Gid’s age, maybe went missing at around the same time that  _ he  _ was shipped off,” and nodded at his cousin, “Possibly there were some cubnappers that slipped through the cracks after the child protection laws were cemented?” he asked, looking mostly to his parents.

“Well, Uncle John,” Gideon cut in, “you asked what helped me during all that and… honestly, I only remember this lion cub named ‘Lenny’ that was in the same cell as me. They’d take me out and bring me back but he was always there, chained to the far wall so I couldn’t reach him. He was also never fed, neither, at least that  _ I  _ saw. Me and him would talk and stuff, but it was more him comfortin’ me and tellin’ me to ‘hang on’ and all that.”

“Who is Lenny?” Aunt Jackie wondered aloud, if quietly.

“That’s the crux of what I’m asking, yes,” Nick said.

Uncle John grimaced some and tapped the thumbs of his folded paws, “Okay, I  _ know _ how this will sound but I’m sure Ruthie won’t mind in the least,” he said, “Lenny is… to the best of my knowledge, referred to as the ‘Patron Saint of Lost Children’. Legend has it that, ever since the Chronicler tradition really picked up steam since before the time of King Richard, missing children of all species that found their way home spoke of this lion cub named ‘Lenny’ that they either ran  _ towards _ or  _ from _ but never actually came into contact with,” Uncle John told, “I spent time at the library in Conifer, learning more and more about the world outside the Knottedwood, and the legend of Lenny caught my attention due to the circumstances I found myself in; missing kids and all that. From what I read, the name comes simply because it is the most common for a male lion cub. I myself think that it’s the symbolism of Aslan’s likeness continuing through the ages, mixed with an instinctual drive to live which gives even the youngest of whippersnappers -- who are not yet jaded by life -- the insight they need to get home again,” the older tod said.

“‘Lenny’ was something of a codeword for a long time in the Rescuers that who -- like your father -- endeavored to  _ save _ the children, instead of lead the police to them,” Jackie then explained, her voice momentarily growing dull, “It was also  _ discouraged _ because of its tremendous risk. I don’t recall any Rescuers out in Bunnyburrow, though, so how would Giddy know about him?”

“Which is why you came twenty years ago, Jackie, now that I do remember you,” Ma pointed out and then rubbed her kit’s arm, “And I told a story  _ like _ Lenny all the time-”

“ _ Tried _ to tell,” Uncle John added under his breath, smirking to his sister’s jutting tongue.

“I  _ sang _ about a younger version of Aslan so that Giddy could better understand Him, something I heard from the local Chroniclers,” Ma said, “He always did have a hard time making friends, so I think it helped him reach out.”

“Ma…” Gideon groaned.

“Of course, I now know that Lenny is his guardian angel,” she said matter-of-factly, and to either the endearing or skeptical responses, continued unabashedly, “I know exactly how it sounds,  _ too _ , but I spoke with Lenny one night through Giddy’s bedroom door. It wasn’t long after he got back and in one of the  _ worst _ states I’d yet seen him, especially after he and that sweet Travis kit got into a shouting match,” she said, rubbing Gideon’s wrist, “I found him out at the rain barrel trying to wash the dirt and tears from his face and the sleeves of his hoodie were soaked up to the elbow. He took one look at me and pulled up the turtleneck he wore underneath to cover his face, but I’d already seen that he had Grey Eye… it can’t have been out of anger, like with his sister, though. I knew it was a pain of sadness,” Ma soberly said, “That night, I went to check on Giddy, like I usually do and when I heard him whimpering I knocked but he didn’t want me to come in, said everything was ‘okay’ and ‘fine’, just like he’d do for years to come… I believe that was Lenny who spoke to me.”

Gideon -- and the other foxes -- remained stunned but he did respond first, “I don’t remember a whole lot of that. I know times were I’d wake in a fright but I don’t recall talkin’ to you through my door when that happened. But then… there’s a  _ lot _ about that time I don’t remember, like, Essy said she’d catch me hitting Night Howlers with a stick.”  _ Which I outgrew, I guess, ‘specially when some of the other pred families shooed me away from their crops. _

“Pa never did like those Night Howlers, either… and I feel terrible for using them in my garden after finding out what all they could do, even if they  _ did _ keep away bugs…” Ma rued.

Uncle John waved a paw dismissively, “Don’t blame yourself, Ruthie; those toxic blossoms are  _ nothing _ like the ones we had in the Knottedwood.”

“True…”

Nick, as was his manner, inserted his two cents in spades, “I’ll go ahead and stop you right there, Dad. Since  _ when _ are there Night Howler flowers in the Knottedwood?”

“ _ Obviously _ it’s not what  _ we  _ called them,” Uncle John rebutted.

“We knew them as ‘Shepherd Folly’ back in the Wood,” Ma said, “They look  _ very _ similar to the Night Howlers out here but smell  _ completely  _ different, so it never occurred to me that they could be the one-in-the-same.”

“And no one was fool enough to eat them,” Uncle John further explained, “They were used primarily to make honey, which our sister, your Aunt Charmagne-”

“ _ Honey _ ?” Nick spat out, springing up in his seat and exchanging quite the surprised glance with Gideon, “Night Howler honey is, and more importantly,  _ has _ been a real thing? I thought bees couldn’t get close to the flowers because the pollen made them loopy?”

“There was surely something with the Knot’s magnetism that… you know,  _ did  _ things and…. Ruthie, help?” the older tod requested.

Ma rolled her eyes, “This is why they never let you near the beehives, John,” she kindly berated, “The bees in the Knottedwood are much more docile than the ones out here and must have adapted to the flower’s pollen. Those nice folk from the Honeyhills ship me the Knottedwood honey ev’ry once in a while,” she further explained and grinned at her brother’s shock, “Oh yes, apparently they’re the only ones who actually make contact with the Wood… It was some several years since Pa, Giddy, and I went back in search of medicine for Essy’s fox flu, desperate as I was to help her, and I might’ve kept up contact but… well, ‘foxes mate for life’ and all that. They  _ said _ it wasn’t an issue but it is still something of a  _ stigma _ .”

“Why the sudden interest in Night Howler honey, Nicky?” Aunt Jackie inquired.

“We suspect that’s how the whipped cream was made toxic,” he answered plainly.

“It would’ve been mixed in with the cream or used as the base,” Gideon picked up, “Tad gave me jus’ about all the ingredients I needed, but I smelled all of it to check that it was good and  _ none _ of it smelled like the honey we have here.”

“I doubt it would since it was altered in some way with a more powerful narcotic,” Nick said, “Aunt Ruthie, would it be possible to get a list of anyone that the Honeyhills sold the Night Howler honey to? I suspect there’s a fun story behind how Magnus stumbled across it for his own nefarious dealings.”

“I’ll need to call them in the morning but I  _ might _ be able to?” Ma pondered aloud.

“Fantastic,” he said with a grin, “By the way, one more question: where are Esther and Goliath? They’ve been mysteriously absent.”

Gideon rubbed his knuckles and frowned, “Pa locked himself in with the  _ ofrenda _ and Essy’s been trying to talk him out. He blames himself for what happened to me.”

* * *

Esther sighed, still slumped against the locked door, gently sniffing as the strongest fox… the strongest  _ mammal _ in her life was likely huddled up into a ball on the other side,  _ Beating yourself up for something that you likely had no control of… which probably hurts all the more… _ she conceded, claws gently raking over the wooden barrier, “C’mon, Pa…” She already tried opening the door, even forcing it but his entire body was pressed against its inward swing.

A low, forlorn growl echoed from within. “What kind of ‘Pa’ am I when it’s // clear I cannot save my kits…” he answered.

“Giddy came  _ back _ , though, didn’t he?”

“Scarred and scared // secrets bared…”

“Just come out; you can’t have known what those rabbits  _ really _ wanted, now could you? pred-therapy wasn’t as well known out here as it was in the city and no kit, cub, or pup had  _ ever _ gone through it before,” she reasoned.

“Long before // did ignore…”

“And would you stop mourning in verse!” she barked, huffed, and rest her head on the door,  _ Especially because I know that’s when you’re really upset… _

“…Sorry.”

Esther was quiet for a bit, “What did you mean… ‘long before // did ignore’?  _ Did _ you know that Giddy was sent to pred-therapy?”

“No…” he responded, “only ‘therapy’.” His weight tangibly lifted from the door as the knob unlocked and creaked open, his puffy, red, and blue eyes glancing out… it opened a bit more, “Forgive this, my dear  _ Zorrita _ , but I can only remember how I condemned your brother long before he was born…” and held out his paw to welcome her inside.

_ ‘Condemned’…? _ she wondered and stood to accept her father’s paw to join him in the room. “What do you mean?”

Pa stood and though hunched was still towering as he led her over to the  _ ofrenda _ , back then straightening to pick up her mother’s picture from the very top shelf, “You know the story of when I escaped with you both… you, just barely born and she… forever still. I managed to grab mother’s milk from the nanny-goats of the palace and though I knew I had a head start… they had other predators,  _ ‘hounds’ _ that they used to hunt down what was theirs. It was only a matter of time that they would track me by the blood I spilt and the milk I stole…

“As I despaired, I came across an old jaguar beggar who saw my plight and said to me what I was afraid to accept: that my paws were too stained with blood to save even one soul… I wept for an answer and his heart must have been moved, for he offered to shoulder my burden. He then cautioned me, that should I choose to mourn the dead then both she and I might find peace… but you would grow in the shadow of the Supais and your fate worse than any other by far. Should I choose to save a life, then I could only do so in the free city to the north… Zootopia… where slaves’ chains are broken. The journey would be long and dangerous but I could make it… and so begin the hardest part of my atonement,” Pa said, “To atone for those I hurt I must live a life of goodness so that others can see and follow.”

“Pa…” Esther beseeched, “You’ve  _ done _ that, for thirty years and more, you’ve never bared claw or fang to anyone!”

“Yes…” he answered and looked to his kit to brush her cheek, “The price for one’s crimes must still be paid, just as that old jaguar said…” He turned the frame over and pulled its fasteners, so carefully removing the printed picture inside to reveal the tall vixen whose bangs draped over one side of her face, “Nina...” and then saw for the first time in sixteen years, the reverse…

Esther stared as she was handed the image, “ _ ‘El Chupacabra’ _ …” she read of the wanted poster, depicting a monster that she had never before seen in her life, whose fangs and claws dripped with blood, and looked up at her father, “‘The Goat-Eater’?” she asked.

Pa winced and shook his shaggy head, “I  _ never _ ate them… nor did I kill them, as far as I know… but I  _ did _ attack them, the servants of the Supai palace…” he rued, “When Reginald Hopps came that day, claiming that Giddy attacked a young bunny I knew in my heart that could  _ not _ be true, for Giddy walked my path of non-violence… But he insisted. I denied it still. And then you brought your brother in and he confessed… I sent you away because I feared there was so much more happening… and I was right…

“I told those bunnies that I would deal with my kit as I saw fit but it wasn’t enough for them… that’s when Reginald took me aside and showed me  _ that… _ ” Pa said, nodding at the wanted poster, “I don’t know how he found it but he did. I’m sure he did not know that it was your mother on the other side because he thought she was an accomplice of mine. Reginald said that Ma and I were in good standing but he feared that my son had my ‘violence’ in him still… he said to either let Giddy go to ‘therapy’ or he would be forced to look deeper into my past. I feared the worst… and prayed that Aslan kept Giddy safe wherever they took him; that he would not have to pay for my sins…”

A firm grip held the wilting tod’s wrist, earning his widened gaze. “That’s  _ not _ what happened, Pa,” Esther asserted, “Giddy was targeted and so were  _ you _ . What that Reginald Hopps did was unjust and cruel, sending a fox kit off to pred-therapy for one scratch that it seemed all of Bunnyburrow turned inside-out over… all, except for the bunny that it happened to. He and Magnus both have a lot to answer for, for what they did to our family,” Esther resolved and looked to the wanted poster with a steely eye. She wanted to tear it up but it meant destroying the one image of her mother that they had,  _ I’ll need to get this copied before doing anything else to it. If those Supais want my Pa then they’ll have to go through every extradition law this country has, and I’ll fight them every step of the way. _ “Here, we should keep her safe,” she then said, returning the photograph of her birth mother.

Pa chuckled as he took a moment to admire the accepted picture, “I see her in you every day,  _ Zorrita _ , and she’d be proud of the clever vixen you grew to be,” he said, kneeling down to lick her cheek, “And she was the slyest vixen in all the valley, you know, but also the kindest. I was always conscious of my blue eyes… and she could have kept me believing that mine were the only blue eyes in all the world but then revealed that  _ she _ had a blue eye, too,” Pa said, and pointed to the left side of his face, “Nina liked to keep it hidden, though, so to always have a surprise to share. I’d never thought to find another heart so kind after I lost her… until I met Ma…” His great mitt-of-a-paw then touched under his daughter’s chin, “And it is plain to me that both their hearts are in you.”

Esther bashfully beamed, ears warmer as her head canted up at him, watching as he hesitated to return the picture to its frame, “We should get back to the others; don’t want them worrying.”

“Like Nick?” he teased with a smirk.

“Like  _ all _ of them,” Esther replied in singsong.

“Should I expect grandkits soon?”

“Pa…” she groaned.

“As if I didn’t know that my own daughter was chasing after a  _ guapo _ fu-”

“ _ Pa! _ ” she snapped.

His jaw clamped shut and ears pinned back as he groaned high behind his pursed lips before he could articulate, “F _ ox _ .”

_ I can’t remember the last time that happened, but still, think before you speak, old tod… _ Esther mentally berated… and then her features softened as she faced him fully, “Hey Pa, I’m curious… my middle name, is it ‘Luck _ i _ ly’ or ‘Luck’ly’?” she enunciated.

Paternal blue eyes blinked as though something struck between them, so he considered it by slacking his jaw before clicking it shut (an expression so similar to how Gideon acted when  _ he _ was deep in thought), “A little out of the blue but as it is, ‘Luckily’…”

_ Oh, I guess that’s all it was, then _ , Esther wondered, somewhat relieved.

“Even if I  _ did  _ tell the bunny who recorded your name that it was ‘Luck’ly’,” Pa then said.

“Or… ‘ _ Lox _ ley’?”

“Yes, that’s what I _meant_ to say,” Pa answered with a smile, “It’s a story from my kithood about a f _ox_ ,” he said slowly to assure it’s the word he wanted, “A long, _long_ time ago, he came to the valley from a distant land and swore to free us from our bondage but only his tail returned and nothing else…” he recalled, “John reminded me of him, as he was something of a hero so I thought up the name while waiting for his return, remembering when I was a kit and dreaming of a ‘Loxley’ to keep that promise to save us. I always was something of a dreamer, though.

“Well, I think we’ve kept them waiting long enough,” Pa said and sniffed before he picked up the wanted poster once more, “Thank you for letting me talk, Essy. I perhaps should tell everyone else about my… my  _ past _ . I can’t very well look my own kit in the eye after he showed the scars on  _ his _ back.”

_ ‘Loxley’… I immediately figured out that ‘Mr. Never’ and Foxy Loxley knew each other but not until now was it plausible that the name ‘Loxley’ had actual historical backing… It’s no wonder Pa never mentioned it before, wanting to forget about Uncle John as he did, but could this ‘Loxley’ have been a real fox? There wasn’t a good time to ask before but this sounds too important not to…  _ she continued to wonder and then blinked from her reverie, “I’m here for you,” Esther affirmed, taking his paw in both of hers to lead him back to the living room.

* * *

“So…” Judy’s voice said over the phone, “Your parents sound  _ super _ nice. I know they follow me on  FuzzBook but I we never actually got to chat. And they  _ really  _ printed out all the pictures I took of us to hang on their wall?”

“Just about,” Nick answered and laughed, “I’d consider it stalking if we weren’t related. We will need to get them some proper pics, though, and  _ you _ an official meeting.”

“Oh, he  _ speaks! _ Hallelujah.”

“Well, when I hear that Ol’ Doug’s wolf suit was  _ actually _ a wolf, I tend to freeze up at the realization that I was in his face and calling him a  _ predo _ , especially if he ever got free he could pick me off from a mile away and would likely wear me as a hat.  _ Literally _ ,” he huffed, “Not to mention he is  _ the  _ Gravedigger and not some copycat sniper… which really puts a different light on him, knowing now that he’s willing to kill. But hey, at least  _ I  _ didn’t upchuck.”

“It was more of a  _ vurp _ , actually, vomit and a burp together,” Judy pointed out, “And at least  _ I _ have good reason to lose all faculty of speech since I actually  _ saw  _ that crime against nature. I’m not forgetting  _ those  _ hollow eyes anytime soon… Poor Bo fainted while trying to make the sign of the Four-Leaf Clover… and Lanny feels terrible for dropping the flood light but he caught it before it hit the ground, thankfully. Have you called Dr. Honey yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“She came and found me because  _ you _ were ignoring her.”

“I wasn’t  _ ‘ignoring’ _ ,” Nick grunted and groaned.

“I know, family issues, that’s why I took a message for you: she pulled some strings to get the drug tests through, so  _ you’re _ cleared for duty,” Judy reported.

“Hot-diggity,” the fox conversed.

“I’m not; there are still some traces of it in my system but it should be out in another day or so. I  _ finally  _ got hold of Bogo and he also said you’re cleared for duty.”

“ _ Double  _ hot-diggity. That’ll make me putting on my badge and blues more than just strutting about,” Nick said. He grinned and adjusted the black necktie of his ZPD uniform and polished said badge with the cuff of his sleeve to make it glint in the mirror.  _ Aunt Ruthie was even kind enough to iron it for me, which considering it was in my suitcase since I packed up my entire apartment on Friday was a happy surprise.  _

“She also muttered something about a ‘blood test’ and then clammed up,” Judy continued.

“Odd, I don’t  _ remember _ giving her my blood.”

“I suggest calling her.”

“One crisis at a time, Carrots, I still need to escort Doug’s rifle case to the sheriff’s office,” Nick explained, “Where are you at right now?”

“Lanny just passed the Kumamoris, so not too much longer now.”

“And how’s  _ Deputy _ Briar holding up?”

“He’s got a death grip on the rifle case,” Judy answered, “and I’m here as emotional support, which is what allows me to tag-along per the S/CARE,” the bunny extrapolated.

“Then we’ll meet you outside the fence. Wilde, out,” he said and made a coughing noise to mimic the sound of a walkie-talkie before hanging up his phone.

A soft, approving trill drifted up from Esther’s bed, “I never knew I needed a fox  _ out _ of uniform,” she cooed, feet and tail idly swaying over her as she laid belly-down. When Nick said he needed to speak privately to Judy’s call, Esther was quick to volunteer her room especially since it’s where he stashed his suitcase.

Nick leered over his shoulder and rolled his hips, “Later,” he suavely promised and with a sweep of his tail, spun around to approach her as she stood from the bed and shared a single kiss, “So, Goliath’s got an interesting story… certainly does explain Señor Supai’s accusation…”

The vixen sighed and nodded. “The Supais will probably accuse him of murder, which they can certainly  _ try _ but without evidence, a thirty-year-old cold case won’t hold up, especially not with the defamation of character from that  _ ‘El Chupacabra’ _ schlock. Bunnyburrow’s known him as an upstanding citizen for longer than  _ they _ ’ve had him as a  _ ‘pet’ _ ,” she growled.

“I do love watching your righteous indignation directed at someone else,” the tod teased, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her from her feet to touch his nose under an ear. She giggled and attempted to push him off (even if her legs picked up to ease in the playful treatment), and when she once more was on the floor, took his paw in hers. “It’s too bad you won’t be able to join us tonight,” he lamented.

“You’ll be alright,” she assured, “Even though we’re  _ both _ too close to this case, Chief Bogo can okay  _ your _ involvement in this time-sensitive investigation, at least until it can be assigned to another officer, but  Bagh & Little would  _ never _ allow such a thing with me.”

Nick then grimaced, frowned, and sighed with such a weight upon his heart that… he did not know if he could hide it any further. “Doug’s request, though…”

Esther stiffened and pinned her ears back, “I know… but we need to have faith that he’s strong enough to handle this, right? And  _ you _ ’ll be with him, as will Judy, Lanny, Bo, and Sheriff Longmare… I don’t care what Doug wants to talk with Giddy about because my brother is sly enough to run  _ circles _ around that wooly villain.”

“I trust you already sent him a text?”

“He knows, which should allow him to keep his cool when you reveal it to everyone else.”

“Good, that should help things along,” Nick determined, hitched up his utility belt, secured his regulation stun pistol, and then released a leaden sigh, “Let’s do this.”

* * *

_ Why me? _ Gideon worried, claws slowly wheeling and twirling over each other as he sat in the conversation-less truck of his friend, Lanny Wild,  _ Does Doug just want to taunt me some more? Because I’ve had enough of that dumb sheep, that’s for sure. He can’t need more info from me; I’ve already told him everything. He might think I’m dumb, so maybe I won’t know that he’s telling me super-secret stuff, well, I’m a bit slyer than he thinks I am, that’s for more sure! _

“Hey Gid,” Lanny said, earning a momentary startle from the blue eyes, “I’ll be right inside the sheriff’s office, so if Doug tries anything again I’ll pounce him into the ground but he’ll get more than a popped shoulder, this time.”

“Th-thanks, Lanny,” he accepted, “that ram is still behind bars, though, so I just gotta stay outta arm’s reach.”  _ ‘Fool me twice’, as it were _ , Gideon recalled, his throat tightening up when he remembered Grav yanking the tie he let get too close the last time he was in there.

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to you, Bangs,” Nick assured from the backseat, sitting on one side of Bo while Judy sat on the other, “There will be nowhere I can hide from Goliath, Ruth, and Esther otherwise…”

“Plus,” Judy added, “Doug was triple-searched before they locked him up, same with Dent,” and then her voice went soft, “And of course… Dent was locked up separately after what he did to Tad.”

“Did he give a reason for that, yet?” the brown bunny asked, his voice much steadier than it was before, even if his paws were still secured around the rifle case’s handle as it sat between the backseat and the front (and was even wrapped in some of the crime scene tape that fell off the nearby building, “To cave in someone’s skull using  _ your _ skull could only have been a deliberate and  _ repeated _ action, not something heat-of-the-moment or even head-butting. Tad didn’t have horns but he wasn’t made of paper-mâché, either. Not to mention all the…  _ splashback _ , which should have deterred  _ any _ prey species.”

“‘Disloyalty’, according to Deputy Catmull, and considering his  _ ‘hobby’  _ it’s somewhat understandable,” Judy grimly answered, “Nick and I suspect that he was about to spill  _ quite _ a few beans, though, especially since Tad would likely be locked up in general population which has its share of predators; I’m jus’ sayin’,” she smoothly drawled, “That ambulance we saw a minute ago still had its lights going, though, so I guess Tad’s not  _ dead _ dead but I doubt he’ll ever talk again.”

“Shame…” Nick darkly pondered, “I was  _ so _ sure he’d be the one we could get all the info out of on this whole operation…”

“Thanks, guys,” Gideon said again, craning his neck to peer over the back of the front seat, “All I gotta do is suffer a few minutes with him, I reckon, nothing to it. I mean… I’m scared-half-to-death but I’m sure it’ll all be okay.”

The sheriff’s office glowed in the evening street as it did on Sunday before, but unlike Sunday the street outside was much more active and it looked like Sheriff Longmare had her hooves full with concerns from Bunnyburrow residents of all species.

“Just pull into that deputy spot there, Lanny,” Bo instructed and as the lion’s pickup rolled into place, a few of those on the sidewalk made way as the doors opened. A uniformed, bespectacled cougar came out to receive them, nodding first to the nurse stepping out of the driver’s seat before walking around to the passenger’s side. He exchanged a somber expression with those inside as he reached in to accept the rifle case. “All yours, Deputy Catmull,” Bo said and gave his best salute.

The cougar nodded and saluted stiffly. “Thank you, Deputy Briar,” he said, his dark lips sparing as polite a smile as he could before he looked to Gideon, “Are you sure about this, Gid?”

“I am,” Gideon answered and unbuckled his seatbelt to hop out,  _ Wow, poor Gabe is definitely spooked… _

“We’ve got this ram dead-to-rights and likely don’t need any confession he ‘promised’ to give.”

“Prob’ly…” the baker said with a shrug, “Essy says that this Doug fella won’t just go along quietly and might even get off on a technically-”

“‘Technicality’?” Judy suggested as she alighted on the ground.

“That, yeah,” Gideon agreed, “If I can help get this ram  _ deader _ -to-rights, then it’s what I gotta do. But don’t worry, Gabe, my back’s bein’ watched by the best there is,” he said with a smile, looking up at Judy and Nick, as well as Bo and Lanny.

Deputy Gabe Catmull grunted and nodded, paw tightening around the gun case’s handle, “Alright, then,” he concurred and led everyone inside.

Sheriff Rachel Longmare turned her weary, stalwart face towards the newest group entering her station as a wave of awe preceded them… for it seemed that the entirety of Bunnyburrow had already heard about the Gravedigger’s true identity and all it entailed. Deputy Catmull approached the horse, shoulders back and chest forward, “I’ll process this into evidence,” he stated and then continued past her stern nod.

She sighed and then grabbed a small something from the nearby desk. “Deputy Briar?” she asked of the brown bunny, stooping over on his approach to present something shiny on the very tip of her hoof, “To make it official.”

Bo’s hazel eyes sparkled at the badge and then up at her, standing straight-backed. “Ma’am!” he said, watching as Judy received the badge to pin it onto his shirt.

“Alright, everyone,” her booming voice then directed of the swathes of citizens, “If you’re wondering about the Gravedigger then you can go ahead and  _ leave _ ,” Rachel instructed before her voice softened, “Return to your families and read about it in the paper tomorrow.”

A general consensus of grumbling acceptance rippled from those present as they shuffled out the door, so that when it was only her, Bo, Officer Legrande (the giraffe looking  _ very _ thankful that everyone else left), Judy, Nick, and Gideon, she then turned to Lanny apologetically, “I’m sorry, that means  _ you _ , too.”

The lion’s arms crossed, “I’m also sorry, Sheriff, but I’m not going anywhere unless it’s with Gid.”

“Unfortunately,” the horse continued, “Ramses already stated the terms to his full confession: he’ll only give it to Gideon or else he’ll lawyer up. I suspect this isn’t his first rodeo because he ‘let slip’ a slew of legal terms that I know Esther would understand. He  _ did _ mention Wilde and Hopps, though,” she said, looking to them both and then picked up a tape recorder, “Here you go, Mr. Grey, just hit the red button when he’s ready to talk.”

“This feels a little like déjà vu all over again, huh?” Gideon said with a sad chuckle, examining the device.

“I expect to get my station back soon enough,” Sheriff Longmare huffed, if good-naturedly, and led them into the back, “Ramses agreed to stay behind bars, at least, so unless someone gave him a thumbtack and a rubber band with which to shoot it, he shouldn’t be a danger.”

“Doug will find I’m a pretty decent shot myself,” Nick assured, paw resting on his sidearm as he, Judy, and Gideon followed the sheriff, “and I will  _ not _ hesitate.”

Judy glanced over her shoulder at Lanny and Bo and then erected her ears in a sort of wave to her fellow bunny… who in turn twitched and waved  _ his  _ ears.

“They got this,” Bo said to the disparaged lion as Longmare led them into the holding cells and closed the door behind them.

_ ‘Déjà vu all over again’…  _ Gideon fretted, holding onto the tape recorder. He could smell the trace remains of blood and bleach and… probably puke as he looked to the one holding cell with yellow tape over the door. He looked then to the smaller holding cell, the one closer to the size of a cage in which Grav mocked and ridiculed and screamed at them on Sunday… and then looked to Doug.

He sat alone, hooves folded, one thumb idly rubbing the other. Where Grav was boisterous and sinister… Doug was gravely quiet, eyes still cast down at the ground between his hooves.

_ This just got harder all the sudden… He ain’t got a gun and he’s behind bars, but knowin’ that he wore a wolf as a suit…! _ Gideon worried, tail tucking about his legs as he felt his paws shake around the recorder. And then a touch on his arm derailed his train of thought.

“It’s okay, Gid, we’re right here,” Judy assured.

A strong paw braced between Gid’s shoulders so he looked at his cousin, “This is a piece of cake, right? You’ve already tussled with him  _ twice _ and dropped a lion on him the last time. He’s not even armed now, is he? This is low-hanging fruit, Bangs,” he said with a confiding clap against the broad back and leaned in to whisper, “And whatever clever scheme he’s got cooking you’ll smell a mile off, so there’s nothing he can pull on you.”

_ Yeah… _ Gideon agreed and nodded his head with assertion. He stepped forward, knowing that his friends were only a few paces behind him. He continued, knowing that they were  _ several _ paces behind him and he just out of arm’s reach of the bars. That was when Doug’s languid, oval pupils addressed him.

“Gideon Grey,” the ram greeted.

“D-Doug Ramses,” the fox readily greeted back, “We got ourselves some business to take care, don’t we? So… let’s get it over with,” he said, showing the tape recorder.

“…Sure.” The wooly assassin stood from the fold-down bed at a full height much taller than the fox. So, he approached the bars in a squat, such that his orange button-up shirt parted just under the belly where his wool poked out over the belt, elbows on his knees with his hooves tucked in, his face a little lower as he glanced up. “How’s the family?”

“N-None of your concern,” he answered, “I ain’t here to chat, I’m here to take a confession;  _ period _ .”

Doug stared, not a  _ hard _ stare or even vacant, just… fixated, perhaps. “I enjoy our talks, though, really,” he said, “Despite everything, you’re actually an interesting mammal.”

_ He’s tryin’ to butter me up, well I ain’t so easily dissuaded, not when I have so much ridin’ on me! _ “I’m sure I  _ am _ but like I said, we’ve got ourselves some business that needs takin’ care of  _ first _ , then you can shower me all you like with praise or whatever. So, Mr. Ramses, whenever you’re ready.”  _ I’ve heard Essy do this plenty of times and I seen it on TV, too, so I know how it works… or close enough, at least. _

The ram shuffled the slightest bit closer and stared still, almost daring the fox to inch away… but he didn’t and even curled his toes to prevent him from doing so. The hooves folded between his knees as he spoke lower still, “Alright, but first… tell your bunny friend to lower her ears.”

_ Oh, for crying out loud, this guy… _ Gideon looked over at Judy, whose ears were already in the process of folding back (and she looking put off because).

“And tell that cousin of yours not to glare so hard at me, I’m feeling a little uncomfortable due to the last time he threatened my life,” Doug calmly requested.

Gideon’s head hadn’t turned back, even if his eyes did, so he looked at Nick and nodded. Nick seemed reluctant but his face did soften as his nose pointed elsewhere… and he spared every glance he got away with.

“Thanks, Gid,” Doug said. When Gideon looked fully at him again, the ram leaned forward until his nose was almost between the bars, nearly whispering as he spoke, “but before I give my full, unabridged confession, I want you to do something for me.”

Blue eyes narrowed as the fox’s brow quirked, leaning in with a jutting jaw and flaring nostrils,  _ I thought so, that puke stink’s from him, no question about it. I guess even Mr. Big-Bad-Gravedigger can’t hold his lunch after seein’ a fellow sheep get his brains bashed in _ , “Still askin’ favors? I don’t think you’re really in a position for that; there ain’t nothin’ else you can give.”

“It’s such a small favor,” he said and turned his hoof out the slightest bit to reveal a single, small, dark-blue ball held between his hoof-knuckles and gave it the slightest pinch to show its elasticity, “I just want you to eat this. Now before you answer, know that I can lawyer up at the drop of a hat but  _ this… _ is such a small thing. You wouldn’t chicken-out because of such a small thing as this now would you, Gid? Not when there are so many depending on you to do something so important and easy. Right?”

_ What is that… it’s kinda like a blueberry? Maybe a gumball but it’s squishy, so a gummy, _ the baker pondered, eyes darting to their corners in futile attempts to peer over a shoulder,  _ I can’t ask for help or else I’ll lose Doug. I don’t think he’d poison me, that’d just make things worse for him, so what’s the catch here…? _ Gideon pondered and then vocalized with a momentary slack of his jaw as he thought on it, “Uh…”

The small blue ball wasn’t in Doug’s hoof anymore and his thumb was extended. Gideon dropped the tape recorder with a clatter as he stumbled, clutching his throat and snapping his jaw shut… and then swallowed.  _ Uh oh… _ he dreaded, blue eyes glancing up as Doug smirked the littlest smirk and withdrew from the bars after tossing something onto the floor outside. It wasn’t long before the fox dropped to all fours as his dark lips pulled to reveal  _ all _ of his fangs.

“Gideon!” someone called.

* * *

Every red flag and danger sense  _ surged _ through Nick like a lightning bolt. Both he and Judy recognized that stance and those jerking motions… and immediately recognized the zipper-locked baggie of Night Howler serum darts that Doug threw outside the holding cell,  _ Covered in spew… so that was his puke I smelled which means they were hidden in his stomach… _ Nick cursed as he turned to Judy who was, already, heading for the door, “Lanny has the antidote!” he signaled to his partner as she lunged for the doorknob and sprinted into the hall. Green eyes stabbed into the stoically smug ram safely locked away inside the bars… and then he drew his stun pistol.

Gideon growled and thrashed, tail wheeling as Nick leveled his sidearm, paws steady with his ears trained to the door,  _ Don’t make me do this, Bangs… _ Nick pleaded; face hardened and scrunched as he focused on the primal actions of the fox before him. An eternity flashed by as he watched, finger squeezing tighter around the trigger… Those jaws were wide and drooling as his once baby-blue eyes tightened to bloodthirsty slits, as Nick had seen in Manchas, Otterton, and the other victims of the Pred-Scare… A paw raised, sharp claws triggering every reflex in the cop and  _ demanding  _ to subdue the danger.  _ Please, no… _ he hesitated.

With a violent flinch and a guttural cacophony, the savage fox arched his back and thrust its claws… down his own throat. He gagged on two fingers, lurching and writhing as both paws clapped to the ground to empty the contents of his stomach… including a telltale streak of midnight purple.

The room grew deathly cold; each of Gideon’s heaving coughs marked a beat. Nick stared and trembled, sniffling as it took every ounce of strength he had to remain standing… it was not enough to keep his stun pistol raised, however.  _ Holy cannoli… _ Nick exhaled, struggling to holster his sidearm,  _ A warning would’ve been nice, Bangs, you about gave me a heart attack!  _

A single bewildered vocalization popped up from Doug, perhaps the most surprised that Nick had ever seen him.

“Shut up!” the fox barked, body tightening like steel cables on his springing approach of the bars, fur prickling from tail to ears and paw tightening around his stun pistol as he growled, “Another peep out of you and I’ll  _ show  _ you what savage is!”

Doug barely bleated when he stared at Nick, nodding and clenching his jaw while retreating to the cell’s fold-down bed, eyes darting back and forth between the two foxes.

Only heavy breathing filled the room… and then Gideon’s muted sobbing as he slid back onto his heels. Nick glanced at the door and there was Judy, those bright eyes of hers questioning all she saw, as they always did,  _ Must have heard the wretching… _ he realized, pointing at the baggie for her to collect it, which she promptly agreed to. Finally, in his right mind, Nick holstered his firearm and crept closer to the coughing, crying fox before him. “Hey…” he attempted, a paw touching on the arched back only for it to violently flinch again… only to immediately calm.

“H-H-Hey…” was the stuttered response, almost looking over his shoulder only to snap his face forward, the fur which spiked smoothing once again, “Hiya Nick… what can I do for ya’?” he warily asked.

_ Well, you can explain why you’re not trying to rip my face off, for one _ , Nick thought, blinking dumbly before craning his neck at Judy. She  _ also _ looked dumbstruck.

“Sounds different,” she signaled. It was common practice for the two of them to use basic signals to quietly communicate.

“Explain?” Nick responded, also in signal.

“Sounds. Different,” she signaled again but with more emphasis and even a confused shrug.

_ He doesn’t sound different to me, _ Nick wondered, “Okay, let’s get you up and away from this mess,” the taller fox said to the stouter, grabbing an arm and looping it around his neck to help him to his feet as he grabbed around his waist,  _ Oof… heavy… _

“Sor-sorry…” he apologized, being led to a desk that had a forgotten water bottle sitting on top (if with someone’s name written in marker), which Nick grabbed and opened and guided a set of shaking paws around. The trembling fox cradled it and closed his eyes to take a sip before looking down at it… always down, never at Nick.

Nick tossed a thumb down the hallway towards the sheriff and Judy nodded again, new evidence in paw, although it’s nothing to say of the video recording from the holding cell camera. She did not run with as much urgency as before, at least not of the life-threatening variety. The taller fox lifted his head to peer at Doug… and then returned to where he’d seated his cousin’s slumping self, out of immediate sight.  _ ‘Sounds different’… even I can distinguish between voices and Gid sounds the same to me… _ he thought, frowning some as he breathed deep and retrieved from his back pocket a handkerchief to wipe the regurgitate off the trembling chin. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he lied.

_ Clearly, not fine, _ “Want to talk about it?” Nick tried, lowering his head to get a better look at the other fox’s face. Even with how avoidant he was, Nick could read the lies on him like a book.

“Naw, I’m good,” he lied again; gaze vehemently averted even if the eyeballs flicked behind their lids.

The paw held that chin and turned it closer but those eyes remained closed; the head tried but could not yank away from the gentle touch.  _ You refused like this before, too…  _ “Would you look at me?” he asked but not with the indignation of earlier that night, rather with concern.

A light whimper first responded before those lids fluttered open, revealing the silver irises within. Nick studied them, so alike in color to Esther’s when her temper ran high but housing none of the fire, only sadness. The taller fox filled his air with lungs and gave his warmest smile, “There you are,” he said and finished wiping the messy mouth before folding the hanky and tucking it away, never breaking line-of-sight as he asked, “See, didn’t I say you’d outfox him? I saw you turning but you were clever enough to get it out of you; that was some quick thinking.”

Those sad eyes glanced away in shame, his face falling off the paw to join the gaze with a self-defeating whimper.

_ Still, no…?  _ “You  _ did _ it, Bangs,” Nick tried again; “We don’t even  _ need _ a confession now, not if Doug’s DNA is  _ literally _ all over that NH serum. Whatever scheme he might’ve had to slip out of that wolf-suit means  _ nothing _ and even the slimiest lawyer will have their work cut out for them. And it’s all thanks to  _ you _ !”

“I-I-I-I didn’t do  _ nuthin’ _ …” he answered, lightly scratching his arm as he looked up again, his eyes as gray as ever, if laced with tears, “‘Cause you ain’t s’posed to know about me… but you  _ do _ … don’t you?”

Nick sighed,  _ Maybe… _ he tried to deny,  _ And Judy did say you ‘sounded different’, didn’t she, except I don’t think it’s your voice that changed but how she feels when hearing it _ . He embraced the quaking shoulders, sitting as close as he could to cradle the bowing head to his chest,  _ I guess if someone’s the same on the outside but different on the inside then they’re… what’s the fancy name for it? ‘Dissociative Identity’? A coping mechanism for mind-breaking trauma, if I remember correctly…  _ “Your secret’s safe with me, Lenny.”

The silver eyes peeked up from the hold, teeth sinking into the dark, bottom lip as his tail curled a bit tighter around him, “You… you called me ‘Lenny’?”

“That’s your name, right?” Nick responded in his most comforting paternal tone,  _ Oh jeez, this is weird… his mannerisms are just slightly different from Gid’s… _

“Y-Yeah…”

“I’ve heard about you from both Gid  _ and _ Ruth. She calls you his ‘guardian angel’, you know.”

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know  _ what _ I am… an angel, a spirit, a  _ soul _ … I looked it up on the Internet and that helped a little… and I  _ think _ I’m a lion but I only see a fox in the mirror, even though Gid’s got blue eyes and I  _ don’t _ … All I  _ do  _ know is I gotta protect Gid…” ‘Lenny’ said.

“Like you protected him in… back when they hurt him?” Nick carefully said and then realized, _Jiminy Cricket…_ _I’m talking with someone that actually remembers what happened in pred-therapy… and has the mental clarity to recall it! In a manner of speaking, anyway…_

‘Lenny’ nodded. “He woke up with wounds but didn’t know how he got ‘em. He was scared, so I sang to him. And after he lost Travis he tried to eat the Night Howler…” he choked, “He was so sad and couldn’t take it anymore, only knew that eating that flower was bad but I forced it out of him -- I  _ had _ to -- just like his Pa taught if he ever ate a bad mushroom or berry out in the woods… I tried to clean up and that’s when his Ma saw me and I was scared… but she was really nice. And then I went out and hit Night Howlers with a stick, as many as I could find so Gid couldn’t eat ‘em…”

Nick’s blood ran ice cold as his ears pinned back and eyes widened, breath catching behind clenched jaws. “Lenny… did you  _ know _ why the Night Howler was so bad?”

“Y-Yeah…” he choked again and trembled, claws digging into Nick’s chest, “I had to stop smashing them because Gid got in trouble. I won’t ever forget how it feels on the belly, though, that’s how I knew he ate it tonight…”

The world blurred as the sheriff and her deputies stormed the holding cells. Doug complied well enough with the whole-body restraints that his accomplice Dent was strapped into (so long as he got his single phone call since Dent and Tad already got theirs). Lanny scooped up a still trembling Gideon to give him a quick medical check (and did make note of his odd eye coloration but didn’t find anything physically wrong, as best he could figure). Judy convened with her partner outside, behind the sheriff’s office after he “needed some air”; it was another common practice of theirs for him to go hiding and her to find him.

“Hey Nick?” she asked as she stood adjacent. Judy was not answered immediately by any means of vocal communication but rather grabbed by the waist and held like a plush doll. With his chin atop her head and a loose hug bolting her into place, the rabbit awaited the fox’s reasoning for such emotional behavior.

“I found Lenny,” he stated, thus earning her attention, “He’s been inside Gid’s head this whole time. Nice guy, very protective, and yes, he’s a lion.”

“Dissociative identity…” Judy realized and gasped, “Of  _ course _ , the trauma from pred-therapy…”

“Yep. Turns out Gid tried to eat Night Howler in the past but his ‘guardian angel’ -- as my Aunt Ruth would call him -- put a quick stop to that. It’s how he was able to come out with most of his marbles intact.”

“Because he was never there… And if ‘Lenny’ recognized the taste or texture then that means… he must have been force-fed Night Howler in pred-therapy…” she concluded while reclining against Nick’s chest, both feet propped up on his knee as she pondered aloud, “I learned from Graham that Clea is still running a…  _ huge _ social experiment or something in the Hopps Manor of Knotash and that  _ he _ was part of it. It occurred to me that Magnus would have used some sort of  _ midnicampum holichithias _ extract to develop the drug we encountered this weekend and that maybe the victims of pred-therapy were there to suffer the screams of dying rabbits.”

“Carrots… I think it’s much more obvious than that,” Nick said, looking down to the craning neck of the bunny in his lap, “Like you implied, every drug needs test subjects, right? This weekend was supposed to be for whatever narcotic Magnus cooked up, and like how it was sixteen years ago, Gideon was targeted but unlike then, when it was more a matter of availability what with the new child protection laws, this time it might have more to do with tying up loose ends.”

Judy’s eyes fell as he stared out across the alley behind the sheriff’s office in which they hid. “He must have realized that if Gideon was still sane, maybe he’d remember something from that time… But why such a roundabout way to silence him?”

“That’s how Magnus operates… apparently; it’s how he’s  _ always _ operated. He manipulates not from the shadows but from the glaring light of public innocence. His plans take months,  _ years _ to enact and no one would ever suspect that he’s the one behind it all. Back when Gideon was a kit, Goliath was strong-armed into permitting his own son’s admittance into a then-undisclosed ‘therapy’ or else risk losing him forever. Since Magnus was already involved with the Supais, he could have already dug into Goliath’s past but kept the information to himself to use as leverage. More to the point, I think he knew about the properties of the NH flower, even back then.”

“Was the flower fed to predators to bolster the results of the ‘therapy’?”

“I have no idea,” Nick dully recounted and when Judy looked up at him again, the fox pulled her closer, “Goliath always hated the Night Howler but never said why, so it must have something to do with the Supais. Magnus was involved with the Supais, and according to both you and Esther, Clea knew her stuff when it came to brain chemistry and  _ she _ was involved -- however briefly -- with Cyrus Bellwether, the late brother of Dawn Bellwether…”

“What… what are you getting at?”

“Every drug needs a test group…” Nick repeated, “Is it possible that Gideon was part of a  _ child _ test group?”

“Nick…” she pleaded, gripping his arm.

He fell silent and breathed deeply to steel himself. “Judy… I’ve been denying it ever since I spoke with ‘Lenny’ but I don’t think I  _ can _ anymore.”

Judy’s grip on his arm relaxed to, instead, stroke down until she held his paw and gave him an assuring nod, to which he exhaled and nodded in turn.

“Pred-therapy was used to make the Night Howler serum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Night Howler serum as a product of pred-therapy is, perhaps, one of the first plot points I ever concocted for this story, and while one did not inspire the other, they certainly coalesced into a pinnacle of revulsion.
> 
> The dreams which Gideon referred to (about Aslan’s “visits”) were from Brave, chapters 8 and 10, specifically when he reflected on his most recent one and the symbolism of “getting through the thorns”.
> 
> “Shepherd Folly” is loosely based on the scientific name of midnicampum holicithias, which roughly translates to "all shepherd between the fields".
> 
> Night Howler honey first comes in Trustworthy, chapter 7, and is discussed later on in the story.
> 
> "Vurp" was coined by Vanellope Von Schweetz in the movie "Wreck-it Ralph".
> 
> Back in Trustworthy, chapter 2, Nick visits his mom for the first time in sixteen years and finds the collage of printouts from Judy’s FuzzBook page (a pun on FaceBook).
> 
> Nick's analysis of why Doug smells like a wolf (i.e., that is a ‘predo’, a prey with certain… inclinations toward predators) is from Brave, chapter 19. Also of interest, remember how he swiped his tail but didn't hit Doug's face? I guess you could say that Nick "missed him by that much", 'eh? This is also where Doug implied that Nick "threatened his life".
> 
> ["...the cuff of his sleeve to make it glimmer in the mirror..."] Judy did this in the movie.
> 
> Judy references the Species/Culture-Affirming Rules of Exception (S/CARE) of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, and the part which allows for small prey species (rabbits, mice, etc.) to act as emotional support in otherwise confidential circumstances.
> 
> Bagh & Little is Esther's law firm.
> 
> Nick said "need to have faith that he’s strong enough to handle this" to Esther in Brave, chapter 13 before running off to aid in the pie-eating contest.
> 
> "Grav yanking the tie he let get too close the last time he was in there." came from Brave, chapter 3.
> 
> "Rodeos" in Bunnyburrow are largely performance pieces of athleticism (or comedy) and something akin to professional wrestling.
> 
> [“…how she feels when she hears it…”] references a habit of Judy's to correlate emotion to those she holds dear, allowing her to keep tabs on them if they're within earshot even among great noise; in Gideon's case, something similar to "Help me". It was first brought up in Trustworthy, chapter 16, and further explored in Brave, most notably in chapter 25. Also in Chapter 25 of Brave is the “huge social experiment” that she learned about from Grav/Graham.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [That was spooky. Now, it is my responsibility to up this chapter to a "Mature" rating for theme and language. Otherwise, enjoy.]

The coffee was strong, which would be great for the long (i.e., “all”) shifts at  Lions Gate General Hospital but Lanny just wanted a quick pick-me-up, so instead poured cream and sugar into his borrowed mug of black brew. There was no use in complaining since he wasn’t supposed to be in the break room of the sheriff’s office  _ anyway _ , however, Sheriff Longmare could hardly refuse a medical professional when dealing with someone (a friend, no less) affected by Doug Ramses. Another chill ran up the lion’s spine and he shook it off,  _ I’ve seen a dead body before… _ he thought,  _ but someone’s pelt made into a suit… that’ll haunt me for sure. And Aslan’s mane, it’s a good thing Dr. Honey forced me to carry that NH antidote, _ he considered for the umpteenth time that weekend, the case and accompanying first aid kit sitting on the nearby table since he brought them in on the assumption things would go wrong,  _ Thank goodness I didn’t need to use it, though… _

“It’d be tit-for-tat if you  _ did _ , considering it  _ was _ Gid who got you in the-”

_ Not helping, _ Lanny told the giant, glowing blue fox only he could see, hear, and smell; he reached to feel the spot on his haunches where the injector pierced through his jeans with the antidote,  _ And not the same thing. I was made into a giant cub, according to Nick; what Gid might’ve done if he hadn’t forced himself to throw-up… I don’t want to think about it… _

“Re _ mark _ able recovery though, right? It’s admittedly  _ odd _ behavior… for a fox, at least.”

_ Pretty ‘odd’, yeah, especially his eyes and how he acted… I’m tempted to say ‘lionish’ but that’s probably just because I’m a lion. _

“Sure was relieved to see  _ you _ , wasn’t he?”

_ Well, I’m a nurse and his friend, so that’s to be expected -- can’t deny that he seemed more like a beta of my pride than an outside friend. I’m probably just looking too deeply into it, though. _ In a split second, the mysterious manifestation of his own accidental exposure to the Night Howler hallucinogenic disappeared as Deputy Catmull entered the room.

“Oh, Nurse Wild,” he said while adjusting his glasses, the stench of anxiety like a cloud around him.

“Please, ‘Lanny’ is fine,” Lanny assured, “What’s up, I thought you were taking Gid’s statement?”

“I  _ was _ but Bo convinced me that  _ he _ wants to do it,” the cougar explained en route to the coffee, pouring it straight from pot to mug and from mug to mouth before refilling it to add sugar and cream, “It’ll be decent practice for him. He might  _ actually _ apply at the sheriff’s office, after all.”

_ Jeez… _ the lion gawked if only momentarily,  _ Something’s definitely eating him from the inside out… _

“A bunny deputy…” he softly chuckled and began to stir the confectionary condiments into his coffee, “Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s  _ great _ \-- after all, we’ve had bunny deputies in the past  _ and _ a bunny  _ cop  _ today -- and if it paves the way for future generations then all the better.”

“That’s not  _ it~ _ ” the intangible fox sing-sang into Lanny’s ear, “His badge is askew and his tail is about ready to knock something over. You should say something, ease his worries a bit.”

_ It’s really not my place to pry… _

“The grinding jaw, the constantly repositioning paws, the splayed ears, the wire-taut whiskers…” he listed off for the nurse’s benefit, “You’ve seen  _ all _ these signs in the waiting room a thousand times before: he  _ wants _ someone to ask him what’s wrong. And if you honestly need  _ more _ proof, look at his slouch, his stance… he’s gone full beta-mode, which you’ve  _ also _ seen a thousand times before (like a certain lionish fox). So get your smolder-holder in there and be a boulder-of-a-shoulder to lean on!”

Perhaps it was Lanny’s overacting imagination but he  _ almost _ felt a bushy tail swat his hindquarters to move him along. “Hey…  _ Gabe _ wasn’t it?” the nurse said in his best bedside manner, earning a bespectacled gaze upon not only his greeting but his approach, “It must still be something of a shock to find a bunny deputy, huh? I know  _ I _ was blown over when I heard about Judy Hopps in the ZPD.”

Gabe tapped the stirring stick on the edge of his cup before setting it with others piled upon a coffee-stained paper towel. “Maybe a little, everyone thought  _ Judy _ would be a deputy after she graduated from the academy, even make her way up to  _ sheriff _ . I heard she was assigned  _ here _ before Lionheart changed it last minute but I wouldn’t go spreading that around. She’s where she needs to be and has done a great lot of good, from the sounds of it.”

_ Let’s see… umm…  _ “Oh yeah, I saw you earlier today as I drove by the pawnshop. I really don’t know the specifics of-”

“Lucky you,” Gabe coldly interrupted as he leaned back on the counter.

“ _ Whoop _ , you’re losing him,” the blue fox pointed out.

_ I got this, I got this… _ Lanny didn’t reply but rather straightened his back and pointed his ears forward, calmly sipping from his coffee as he glanced elsewhere over its raised rim with his tail swaying  _ very _ slowly as he leaned on the counter, too, if sideways. Gabe flicked a glimpse, tightened his knuckles around the counter’s edge and then flicked his eyes away again… only to return to Lanny.  _ Okay, got him. _

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” the deputy cougar explained, “I’ve known Tad a long time, even knew what he got up to… I mean, I only found out about it  _ after _ he was caught… the first time…” he awkwardly coughed, “Anyway, all that stuff you probably saw me carrying… do you know what it is?”

“Not specifically.”

Gabe paused and pondered, both paws gripping his mug, “Legrande was supposed to go through it but he had to deal with the Reunion Board, so it was up to me. I was only looking for anything that wasn’t… you know, pictures of predators so to separate it from the evidence… and then I found some of his older stuff. Predators I knew as a cub, that I know grown-up… I saw some of my brother Bobby…”

Lanny set his coffee down to, instead, rest a paw on the deputy’s slumped back,  _ I don’t think I have any siblings but I’ve known lots of younger mammals that I would do anything to protect… _

“Tad was really good at bird calls…” the cougar continued, “All the kids loved it, especially Bobby, always so excited to hear how he could make chirps and whistles with his hooves. He was a pain-in-the-tail to dress, my brother, still is… and always had an issue with his voice so he didn’t say much. One day, he came home later than usual, spooked by something but we couldn’t figure out what. He never spoke again after that.

“No one in Tad’s photos  _ knew _ they had their picture taken, with few exceptions from what I saw, and they’re always surprised or the result is blurry… I guess he was never caught or turned in, except for that one time. And then I saw Bobby looking right into the camera… absolutely  _ terrified _ …” Gabe choked and then raised his finger accordingly, “And one where he was crying and  _ shushing  _ himself like he was mimicking someone else…

“All I could see was red when I confronted Tad… he  _ said _ ‘he never touched Bobby’ but that was only after his teeth stopped chattering and he approached the bars,  _ grinning _ … That’s when Dent got him from behind…” Gabe petered off, “I watched it all; part of me knew I had to stop it but another part of me  _ wanted _ it to happen… Even when he  _ begged _ me for help; told  _ them  _ I’ll come for them…

“I already told Rachel…” the cougar then weakly admitted, “I tried to turn in my badge but she said ‘I wasn’t getting off  _ that _ easy’… I was to go home and talk with my brother as soon as I was able. I…” he shook, “I confronted the ram that hurt him, told my boss who had  _ every _ cause to throw me out on my tail… confessed to a mammal I never met before in my life…” he said, looking up at the lion, “And yet I can’t bring myself to tell my own brother… I’m scared what it’ll do… to  _ both  _ of us…”

Lanny’s brow pinched as his paw grew lighter on the cougar’s back… but strengthened again when he heard that ethereal fox whisper something,  _ Ooh… that’s pretty good, I should write that down _ . “Gabe,” he began, the corners of his mouth turned up in a gentle smile, “I think… you should try to avoid situations with complicated explanations, most of all, having to explain your own secrets  _ after _ they’ve been found out. You’ve already got the go-ahead to see your brother  _ tonight _ , and from the sounds of it, he might be waiting for someone to reach out to him…” the lion significantly pointed out, “No one better to do that than his big brother, right?”

Gabe peered over the rim of his glasses before taking them off and standing away from the counter where his coffee mug was set. The cougar reached into his front pocket for a folded handkerchief to wipe his lenses and then his eyes with a staunch throat-clearing. “I guess there’s no other way about it, then,” he decided, shoving the hanky back into its storage. With a turn of his heel and squaring of his shoulders, he reached out to clap the lion’s frame, “Thanks, Lanny, you really do come through in a pinch, don’t you?” he said, punctuating with a slight grin, “I’d also appreciate this kept between us, you know, cat-to-cat.”

“Of course,” Lanny said and straightened the deputy’s badge before bumping his chest with a fist, “And who knows, I might be moving out here in the future depending on how things go, so maybe we’ll see more of each other.”

The cougar’s head canted a quirked brow and smile as he returned the chest-bumping, “You  _ do _ know that most mammals out here are trying to get  _ into _ the city, right?”

“What can I say, I like it out here,” the lion said with a light shrug, paws at his hips, “Clean air, friendly folk…”

“It’s certainly cheaper,” Gabe snickered as he left the break room, “Plus, all my family’s out here, too.”

_ Yeah… family, _ Lanny thought as he leaned back with a low sigh.

“That went well,” the giant, glowing fox jovially observed, sitting on the table even though his feet touched the floor; the normal-sized cup of imaginary coffee pinched between his fingers sufficiently dwarfed, as was the similarly dwarfed spoon used to stir, “You really  _ do _ have a knack for comforting others, don’t you? I think it’s all of that fluffiness you take such good care of; makes you look  _ plush _ and non-threatening.”

Lanny pulled a napkin from the counter and a pen from his pocket to write down the phrase which helped convince Gabe of what he needed to do.  _ Hey… ‘Dawson’, will I ever figure out who you are? You seem to have answers for every question except that one. _

“I  _ do _ have all the answers, Champ, you just need to ask the right questions,” he endeared and sipped from the tiny, make-believe mug of coffee, “ _ If _ you have the nerve to ask them, that is…”

_ Speaking of ‘nerve’…  _ Lanny critiqued,  _ I’ve already asked the questions I wanted to know about. _

“ _ All _ of them? Seems like there’s one, in particular, that’s still gnawing at you…  _ recent _ , as it so happens.”

_ I’m not opening that can of worms… _

“Don’t pretend you didn’t notice,” the oversized hallucination teased, “ _ Maybe _ the Pred-Scare Sniper let his guard down because he wasn’t expecting a souped-up lion to be hiding in a nearby tent, but you can’t be fooled into thinking that turning Gideon savage was his endgame tonight.”

_ Nick said so himself,  _ he argued,  _ Doug pitted them against each other to twist the knife, to show that he could. That’s why he did it. _

“Oh,  _ please _ ,” scoffed a casual dismissal, “You don’t believe it, Judy doesn’t believe it,  _ Nick _ didn’t believe it when he said it; he came up with  _ a _ reason so that the sheriff would let him get Gideon  _ any _ where else but there. Try again,” ‘Dawson’ professorially instructed.

_ What do you want from me, I thought you’re supposed to be helpful? _

“Now  _ that _ right there is a question worth answering!” the enormous, blue figure declared as he flicked the imaginary coffee mug over his shoulder (to shatter somewhere unseen) and leaned in with an assuring gesture, “ _ You _ suspect that Ramses is up to no good and you’re  _ absolutely _ correct; I’m  _ quite _ sure he enjoyed ‘twisting the knife’ and giving his noble adversaries a  _ substantial _ fright but that’s not why he played his trump card. I only want you to think critically about what he’s  _ really _ up to, is all.”

Lanny stormed over to the table to sit (and the mental imagery tumbled into a facing chair, if not quite as large as he was before).  _ Okay, if he wasn’t out for revenge, why get them into the same room at all? _

“Surely, it must be because  _ they  _ would recognize the Night Howler serum that he threw at their feet, as Judy reported,” the  _ faux _ fox answered.

_ That doesn’t make any sense, though, to just reveal his secret weapon,  _ Lanny mulled, _ And possession of NH serum is a felony, so he just dug his grave a bit deeper. _

‘Dawson’ laughed, “Dug his grave! Because he’s the ‘Gravedigger’. Good one, Sport, and you’re on the right track so here’s the next step:  _ clearly _ , his goal was to dart Gideon such that Nick and Judy would know about it. Ergo…?”

_ They’d want to save Gideon without hurting him and he saw the NH antidote injector after I pounced him yesterday… but Ramses can’t have known I’d be here tonight, _ the lion reasoned,  _ He can’t have known I’d still be in town at all but… he’d know that Nick wouldn’t hesitate to call me. It’s not like he wants  _ me _ , though… does he? _

“Another important question,” he casually pointed out, before his tone sobered a bit, “Ramses  _ did _ spend all of yesterday palling around with the Prince’s Guard, you know.”

Lanny stared down at the table as his heart skipped a few beats,  _ But… the Lookers aren’t a threat. Nick said they weren’t and so did Bo… _

“Remember Jeff?”

_ Jeff had legit reasons to leave the city; his new job, for one. _

“What about Curly?”

_ Curly… Curly was an accident; even if he did run into the road to get away from the Lookers… _

“Was Ephraim an ‘accident’?”

_ No, but… Why are you bringing all this up, to what end? _

“Because they had one thing in common, Slugger: those lions had bright, red manes -- just like you -- that the Prince’s Guard went  _ crazy _ over… except for Ephraim… they sure were mad to find out his was dyed… tore it all out one fistful at a time, didn’t they?” the big, blue fox said, his joviality waning as he crossed his arms in thought, “It makes one wonder what Ramses could do with a big, young lion like yourself… bright, red mane… forged dental records and DNA tests… The fate of Simon King  _ is  _ worth a lot of money, you know, living  _ or _ dead…” Those eerie eyes locked Lanny in place, sharing every ounce of dread, “It makes one wonder what kind of bargaining chip that could give a cornered assassin, doesn’t it?”

_ That… that’s just paranoid! If someone wanted to deliver a fake Missing Prince, they’d have done so years ago and you know it! _

“Does paranoia keep you alive? Yes, yes it does,” he quoted, “And  _ true _ , all of Simon’s genetic info  _ is _ secured by the King family, so it would probably be easier to find the Missing Prince than forge his documents,” ‘Dawson’ went on, “How _ ever _ … the way he looked after you set his shoulder wasn’t  _ fear _ ; you know what  _ that _ looks like. He was  _ calculating _ . You’ve seen it every time some hopeless mammal staggers into Urgent Care who doesn’t want their prior activities landing them in even  _ hotter _ water.”

_ He… he might have darknet connections or Magnus himself to get that info and if that’s the case… then the Pred-Scare Sniper has motive to go after me… Wh-What can I do? _ The question echoed around his skull as his claws scraped the table wood. When was Lanny last faced with his inevitable mortality…? When the air was dark and hot; when it choked and roared; when everything in his body hurt, from the rasp of his lungs to the beat of his heart. When all he could manage was to stare and beg that his life might be shown pity upon…

The ethereal, blue fox -- bigger and blurrier than he’d ever been -- stood  _ through _ the tabletop to reach for the trembling lion… “It’s o-kay, S-on, I got yo-u,” he said in a scattered almost stuttering speech, a paw bracing the back of the maned head. The blue of his fur was bluer and the blue of his eyes… greener, everything about him then shrank as he bounded towards the break room’s ajar door. Pattering feet from out in the hallway culminated into the poking nose of Officer Nick Wilde, the blue hallucination dispersing like a mist as the uniformed fox rushed through it with Judy Hopps in tow.

“Freight!” Nick called.

“I knew I heard his grinding jaw in here,” Judy recounted and vaulted onto the chair.

Nick followed suit, “It’s a good thing you’re sitting down because-!”

“Ramses wants  _ me _ , doesn’t he?” Lanny cut in, only just managing to gather himself again.

The fox’s face fell into a frown and the bunny cocked her hip. “All of my thunder,  _ gone _ ,” Nick pouted to his partner, arms thrown into the air.

“It  _ does _ make the next thing you have to say much easier, though,” she pointed out.

“I  _ guess _ …”

“Sorry,” Lanny said, continuing in a lower voice, “I was talking with Dawson and he walked me through how Ramses used Gid to reveal his NH serum so that you would call  _ me _ .”

Judy reached out for the lion’s knuckle, “I’ll admit, you’re handling the news  _ remarkably _ well,” she commended.

_ Only on the outside, _ Lanny thought as he gave his best smile and rest a paw on hers (thus engulfing it and her arm).

“We figured it was the best way he could approximate your location,” Nick explained, calming down a bit, “You’re probably not old enough to remember but there were  _ heaps _ of false claims that Simon King was found but genetics testing was solid enough even back  _ then _ , stopping those charlatans dead in their tracks. It’s an  _ old _ , rather  _ weak  _ scam, but if Ol’ Doug’s got some strong friends-”

“ _ Magnus _ ,” Judy coughed.

“Then they could make a convincing corpse out of an orphan with amnesia and that’d be that,” he nonchalantly concluded, “On that note, such devious plans are  _ bupkis  _ unless he follows through with them  _ tonight _ , that is to say, Doug and his wayward flock are dead in the water without a way to  _ convey  _ that time-sensitive information. Even awaiting trial might take too long once it gets out that ‘Doug Ramses’ equals ‘ _ The _ Gravedigger’ plus ‘The Pred-Scare Sniper’; infamy is what it is, after all.”

“So… we should keep an eye out for secret messages,” Lanny suggested.

“Precisely,” Judy picked up, “We found out from Officer Legrande that each of the rams used their phone calls at different times and according to the deputy, there was nothing suspicious  _ except _ for an unusual amount of bleating. For this, I called a childhood friend of mine, Dr. Gareth Curry -- he’s working his residency at the hospital, you’ve surely met him.”

“I did, and a very kind ram; smart, too, which he’d have to be if he’s to be a brain surgeon.”

“Well,  _ I _ happen to know about the thing which Dr. Gareth told Judy:  _ bleat _ speak,” Nick said, “You’ll be hard-pressed to find a species without its own wordless code to convey simple concepts or pre-determined messages -- wolves have howlxidecimal, for example (which you didn’t hear about from  _ me _ ) -- ‘bleatspeak’ is something sheep have. It’s practically an established language in Meadowlands, complete with dialects and accents.”

“When Dr. Curry first inspected Tad tonight, he recognized distinctive bleating despite the state of his skull and assumed they were ‘neurons firing’ but since he’s  _ also _ a farm-sheep, Gareth managed to catch some words,” Judy said and counted off on her fingers, “‘He’ and ‘coming’.”

“Magnus is coming back  _ here _ ?” the lion worried in a hush,  _ Is that what Tad was screaming about, not about Gabe ‘coming’ but Magnus? _

“His involvement is probably what Tad was willing to squawk about,” Nick said with a nod, “A stool-pigeon would ice our evidence cake  _ just  _ right,” he said, grunting in satisfaction with an approving gesture.

_ ‘Disloyalty’… but did Dent attack Tad for what he did to Bobby Catmull or for snitching? I suppose it could be both, _ Lanny considered, “But… if Ramses  _ works _ for him, why would he need something like a bargaining chip?”

“Simple: what happened this weekend spells  _ huge _ trouble,” Judy said, “Doug and company would be thrown under the bus without a second thought  _ unless _ he had something else to bring to the table.”

“As for  _ you _ , my mountainous mammal,” a smiling Nick said to Lanny, “We need to get you over to Madge. If anyone can secure the target of a conspiracy, it’s  _ her _ . So right now, we-”

“Hush!” Judy warned, her ears swiveling towards the hallway before the telltale sounds of hooves clopped nearer, Sheriff Longmare soon letting herself into the break room.

Her stoicism swept those at the table before she nickered, “At ease. Got some news I’m sure you both already figured out,” she dryly said to the city cops, “Tad died on the operating table, making Dent’s assault straight-up  _ zooicide _ . Officer Wilde,” the horse continued and appropriately pointed, “As the nearest, on-duty cop, I’d like you to stand guard over Doug and Dent until the ZPD can have them transported to Precinct 1 for processing; a truck is already en route. Judy,” her hoof shifted, “You, Lanny, and Gideon are free to go; I think he’s still asleep. Deputy Briar can accompany you back to Preds’ Corner if you like -- Mr. Barley needs him as an authority figure to manage the bunnies there.”

“That works for me,” Judy said as she pocketed her badge, “If anybunny finds out I’m flashing my shield while not only off-duty but  _ uncleared _ for it, I’ll find myself in hot water with the rest of the community; especially if there’s a recognized authority around. Earlier tonight won’t be an issue, what with emergency situations and Bo not yet deputized.”

“I wouldn’t mind going back,” Lanny said, “Dr. Honey agreed to hold onto my luggage so that I could fit the gun case in my truck,”  _ So long as I carried the NH antidote, of course. _ He then exchanged a subtle wink with Nick. The lion rose from his seat, “Thanks for putting up with me, Sheriff Longmare.”

A hoof waved with heartfelt dismissal, “Think nothing of it, Nurse Wild; if you  _ do _ plan to stay out here in the countryside, I look forward to seeing you around.”

Crimson eyes blinked. “Word really  _ does _ travel fast…”

“You get used to it,” Judy consoled and patted his knuckle.

* * *

“…the stem at a diagonal; that’s very important, cutting at a diagonal. It allows the flower to drink more of the plant food from the vase water you see, lets them live longer  _ and _ look better. And isn’t that why you put flowers in a vase, to make the room look pretty? Otherwise, what’s the  _ point _ ; why not just buy  _ silk _ flowers? I suppose you can’t choose what you get as a gift, of course, but there’s something about fresh flowers, the way they feel, lean,  _ smell… _ Don’t get me wrong, there’s a time and place for silk flowers -- plastic, too -- and some even come with scents that you can  _ spray  _ on but it’s just not the  _ same _ …” rambled Dent.

_ That’s what I get for asking how the flower vending business was going, _ Nick observed and bit into his third donut from the box that the sheriff’s office provided him. Either ram stood neatly bound and awaiting transport with limbs and heads (or horns) strapped down to only allow the barest movement; a muzzle topped off the whole ensemble. Dent continued unabashed in his monologue of such stirring topics as flower care and arrangement around the home while Nick dragged his chair nearer,  _ It should give Doug over here all the cover he needs to talk. _

“Hey there, Doug, stoic as always,” Nick said after popping the remainder of the donut into his mouth and clapping powdered sugar off his paws, savoring its sweetness a moment before shining his casual smile while seated, “You look like the type of mammal who’s been waiting to get a word in edgewise. Well,  _ I’m  _ all ears for what you’ve got churning between  _ yours _ .”

“…can actually be  _ too _ much sunlight but only if the room isn’t properly ventilated. Most mammals don’t know that flowers need a good breeze just as much as any of us and without it, they’ll wither and droop and look  _ terrible _ ; what a shame that’d be, too, letting flowers go like that just because you can’t be bothered to open a window every once in a while…”

Doug’s ear twitched towards Dent’s steady chatter before his eyes glanced up at the camera gently whirring in the corner… to then rest upon the patient fox whose gaze never averted. “There really isn’t much to talk about, Nick,” he said, shrugging against his restraints.

_ Easy does it… _ Nick cautioned himself, “You sure? Alright, I’ll start us off, then, something of an icebreaker: Gideon’s doing well, sleeping like a baby-kit. Lanny checked his eyes and they’re as blue as they’ve ever been, as opposed to those fur-raising, slotted pupils of the mammals you sniped with NH serum,”  _ Or the gray of Lenny, for that matter _ , “Speaking  _ of _ , I can’t help but notice that your flock lost a member…  _ again _ .”

At last, the exhausting dissertation of Dent’s screeched to a halt as both sets of oval pupils focused between narrowed eyelids (Doug’s far less so than his associate’s). Nick remained his cool self as the horned ram’s muscles tensed within their confines only to snap back to a relaxed state from Doug’s terse bleating. “Let’s see now, where was I…?” Dent wondered aloud.

“Why not to combine reds and pinks in bouquets,” Nick prompted, eyes still locked on Doug.

“Right;  _ very _ tricky colors, reds and pinks,  _ doable _ and looks amazing if you’ve got it right but you have to get it  _ right… _ ” he started anew, voice high and casual.

Doug’s stony gaze met Nick’s. “Tad… that shouldn’t have happened but he didn’t give us much  _ choice _ . Loyalty is-”

“ _ Not _ why he’s dead,” the fox interrupted, one leg crossed over the other as he lounged in his chair, arms folded behind his head, “If you wanted, you could have silenced him without that whole, nasty killing business. I would even guess that his creeping and peeping isn’t what sealed his fate. After all, Dent knew about the former and you knew about the latter, yet were both willing to work with him regardless. No… I think it has something to do with Deputy Catmull, who was about ready to breathe fire when he first found out about Tad… so what shook his spirit  _ so _ deeply that he turned into the ghost-of-a-cat I saw tonight?”  _ Lanny wasn’t volunteering any info on why Gabe looked better after talking to him, which I respect enough to not shove my nose into,  _ “Something in that predo’s photo album, no doubt, something of his brother Bobby… Tad definitely touched a nerve mentioning him on Monday; I should know, I was  _ there _ .”

“Thin ice,  _ fox _ ,” Doug warned.

“And you’ll do…  _ what _ , exactly?” Nick challenged,  _ Even in confines he’s spooky, but I can’t let him know he got to me _ , “Unless you’ve got C4 stored in your small intestines for just  _ such _ emergency that your digestive tract was forcibly evacuated from  _ both _ ends, I doubt there’s much you can do to me right now. Be _ sides _ ,” he continued with a grin, “we’re just having a friendly chat, aren’t we? About how Tad and Dent are going the same way as Woolter and Jesse and then you’ll be the only one left…  _ again _ . So, let’s come at your thoughts from a different angle: on a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your surprise that Gideon survived the serum without the antidote?”

Dent stumbled some before picking right up where he left off, “...I’d  _ much _ rather potted flowers or a fern than anything cut off at the stem. I’ve always enjoyed a nice, potted plant to liven up a room even if it doesn’t have any blossoms; it’s like having a canary or a goldfish but much quieter. Plants are like pets, you know, they too need food, attention, cleaning up after…”

A glower was all the hornless ram bothered to answer, that and an undirected bleating under his breath.

_ Still nothing, huh? _ Nick rubbed his chin and switched legs, “Did you know that pred-therapy was used to make the Night Howler serum?” he asked.

Doug’s jaw relaxed but his expression was as stony as ever.

Nick’s thumb tapped a cheek. “Did you know that their testing included kids?”

Doug’s jaw slacked and his face lost most of its color. “No.”

“ _ Kids _ …?” Dent demanded, the pressure building up behind his voice all but audible as his eyes tried with all their might to see his associate.

_ Hmm… _ Nick maintained a death grip on his nonchalance. “Gideon was one of the unlucky few, I wager. All of your victims in the Pred-Scare were adults, though…”

“I don’t shoot kids,” Doug immediately denied, hooves balling into fists.

“They used it on  _ kids! _ ” Dent bellowed, great bulk straining against the bindings as he accused his fellow ram, “We have one rule: ‘don’t deal in  _ kids _ ’!”

“I didn’t know!” he protested, eyes likewise as far to their corners as he could manage, “They gave us the formula and I perfected it; end of story.”

“I killed my cousin for you, you rain-gargler!” he went on, “Tad was as bad a seed as they come but how can I look his folks in the eye  _ now _ , huh? He died for some Pleasure Island  _ ass _ !”

Nick reclined as furious, _indignant_ bleating filled the room, _More bleatspeak, I reckon…_ _I wonder if Pleasure Island is rivalry or adversarial to them -- and by association -- Magnus_ , he thought, inserting both fingers into his ears until the two rams settled down, at which point he pulled a notepad and pen from his uniform shirt pocket.

“I swear on the horns of Cyrus Bellwether… I didn’t know the serum was used on children,” Doug reiterated between caught breaths, “Dawn only ever gave me adult targets, she said the serum would have been too dangerous for anyone younger, that the wild state could get them too easily killed… We wanted to send a message, build fear, show how mammals still had their bloodthirsty biological predisposition,  _ that’s it _ . It was meant to keep them safe but to do that we needed to  _ control _ them, those who didn’t know how to control themselves.”

Dent huffed and snorted (maybe derisively, maybe to clear his nose), “Don’t you dare preach Cyrus to me like I don’t know it, Doug, he trusted  _ me _ more than any other ram,” he argued, “I swore on his horns, same as you…  _ before _ you.”

“And where were  _ you _ when he needed you, Dent? You were supposed to guard him but you and the rest of the flock were off chasing tail. So who was there instead, Dent? Who was it?”

The larger ram tensed from his brow to his ankles, grazing teeth audibly grinding, “That’s not fair…”

“No, it’s  _ not _ fair,” Doug coldly stabbed, “It’s not fair that Dawn had to go out and find him after he drank so much that he couldn’t walk straight. It’s not fair that the one predator, the one  _ wolf  _ in the entire city that you were supposed to keep at bay found them. It’s not fair that Ulaf MacGrim followed him from the Cloven Hoof, even as sloshed as he was,” Doug said, his voice darker and harsher than it’s ever been, “It’s not fair that Cyrus couldn’t fight him because he was trying to protect Dawn, too…”

The stifling quiet broke only to Nick’s gentle scratching of notes on paper, on whom Doug’s drained and apathetic eyes were directed. The ram spoke again, at last, “You want to know why Tad’s dead, fox? Because he silenced a little puma cub about what he did to him… for  _ scarring _ him… just like Ulaf silenced Dawn after ripping out Cyrus’s throat in front her. She was grown when that happened but it still shattered all hope she had for prey and predators to live together in peace… Gabe’s anger told me all I needed to know about Tad, that he was as predatory as those he lusted over.”

_ So Dawn’s plan was self-deceiving altruism all along. That’s something you won’t hear on the morning talk shows. And still, Ulaf MacGrim… the late, younger brother of Ferris MacGrim… so that’s what happened to him. And sounds like Cyrus Bellwether ran afoul of Underland’s Secret Police and paid the price… _ Nick thought, jotting down notes, “That wouldn’t happen to be Ulaf’s pelt in your rifle case, would it?”

Doug’s mouth pinched on one side, not enough to form a smile but enough to broadcast his bored amusement, “I only got back from deployment the day it happened… I was about to see Dawn but then I got the phone call that she needed help with her brother. When I arrived, Cyrus was already dead and Dawn’s eyes were puffy and as red as the blood in his wool, and I learned all that happened. For her sake, I made it look like it was an accident, that way MacGrim’s pack wouldn’t go after her. For  _ his _ sake, I tracked down Ulaf and made  _ it _ look like an accident too, but that wasn’t enough… so I did the one thing I knew would hit Ferris the hardest: I sent him his brother’s flesh and let him think that the pelt was kept as a trophy by any of four rival gangs. I couldn’t just hold onto it nor could I throw it away, even the Black Sheep Market would be too great a risk…

“That’s when Dawn came to me, no longer the bright-eyed optimist that I remembered but cunning and ambitious… perhaps it was a part of her that was  _ always  _ there but never shown,” Doug continued, “She found Cyrus’s research, said we needed to fulfill his vision but we needed capital, connections… and thus, the Gravedigger was born, a gun for hire of the highest caliber, built on the burgeoning, Underland legend of Ulaf MacGrim’s ‘mysterious death’; it was only fitting that his pelt helped us in that way. It took a long,  _ long _ while, not until well after PredaTherp, but Dawn got into a newer, cleaner City Hall and worked her way up to Assistant Mayor… and then Mayor. All for a future where prey could live without the fear of predators eating them.”

_By making prey fear predators, ironically enough,_ and jotted some more notes, “And that’s what -- or rather, _who_ \-- Magnus has over you,” Nick concluded, “They threw away the key when they locked up Dawn; ‘fear _always_ works’, as she said, and well, she scared a _lot_ of predators, not to mention the families of the prey who were attacked by those you shot. I imagine the past year had you as Magnus’s private assassin, doing for him what you did for Dawn. How _ever_ , I doubt you feel the same way about _him_ as you do about _her_ ,” the fox noted, grinning, “Isn’t that right, ‘Dr. Sam Gouse’?”

Doug rolled his eyes and sighed.

Dent coughed. “Could I just mosey on into the next room for a sec?”

“Nope, you get to be as much a part of this as anyone,” Nick said and pointed at one ram before addressing the other, “You see, Judy and I kept eyes, ears,  _ and _ noses on Dawn’s stay at Hotel Incarceration over the past year, and so far, she’s been a sweet, little lamb: plays nicely with the other inmates, cooperates with the guards, even hosts a bi-monthly book club. Something we’ve  _ also _ discovered is that she’s visited on a regular basis by an older ram who spends a  _ lot _ of time on sabbatical while his TAs teach his class over at  ZU ; officially, he’s something of a shrink and has been helping her rehabilitation, thanks to the discretion afforded by S/CARE.

“Amusingly enough, ‘Dr. Sam Gouse’ is an anagram of ‘Doug Ramses’,” the fox continued and showed the exchange of letters written out on his notepad, “a fun trick for mammals who need to keep track of multiple identities (not  _ me _ , of course; other mammals). Kudos, by the way, I never would have guessed it was  _ you  _ until tonight and your scent-masking skills are  _ exquisite _ . I am curious though, ‘Dr. Gouse’, were your visits conspiratorial or conjugal? The latter seems far more likely considering how you spoke of Dawn just now but I’d like to settle a friendly bet with Judy.”

Doug glowered.

“No?” Nick sighed and smiled in shrugging defeat, “No matter. I might be able to put in a good word, so maybe you and Dawn can still play doctor during your respective sentences. If you change your mind, let me know; I’ve got all night. Alternatively,” he suggested, “we could talk instead about why you were in Bunnyburrow in the first place.”

“I was visiting family; there  _ is _ a reunion going on, after all.”

“Now now, no need to pout; you  _ obviously  _ weren’t called in from the city to harass Gideon,” Nick rebutted, “According to the timeline of events, the abduction could only have been tacked on  _ after _ an assassination, and short of teleporting, you couldn’t have gotten here unnoticed in the scant hours between our faces popping up on the darknet and when you kidnapped me and the girls. I could probably get my  _ own _ wolf pack of the  _ real _ police to help me comb through local events and find a ‘mysterious, fatal accident’, but I’d rather get it straight from the sheep’s mouth.”

Doug looked pensive.

_ He’s calculating; a good sign _ , Nick considered.

Dent bleated in such a way that it sounded like a suggestion.

Doug bleated back. “Alright, fox, you talk a good game, I’ll give you that. I was sent to take out-”

“Your mom,” Dent cut in after a derisive snicker, “to dinner.”

“Apparently she  _ really _ likes wolves. Who knew, right?” Doug said in absolute deadpan.

_ Uh huh…  _ Nick flipped his notepad shut with a shake of his head, “ _ Ha _ , you got me, guys; walked right into that one, didn’t I? Allow me to repay your pettiness with a  _ real _ low blow: hey Dent, try shutting up every once in a while or else Doug will find out that you were sweet on his ewe while he was overseas.”

“Low  _ and _ desperate, fox,” Doug dismissed, “I’m actually a little ashamed that you caught me.”

Dent coughed again.

“See, _that_ right there is what I’m talking about, Dent, you give yourself away too easily,” Nick explained, “Just _look_ at that guilty grimace. I mean, you _could_ look at it if you weren’t strapped in, Doug, but I’m _sure_ you can picture it because you’ve _sure_ ly seen it before. After all, he _is_ the ram whom Cyrus ‘trusted more than any other’ -- aside from the one dating his sister, of course.”

“Doug, you know I’d  _ never _ -” Dent denied.

“Lying~” Nick casually interrupted and hopped from his seat.

“Shut it, you shifty little-”

Doug bleated assuringly.

Dent bleated plaintively.

Doug bleated questioningly.

Dent bleated with uncertainty.

Doug bleated with accusation.

Dent bleated defensively.

Doug bleated aggressively.

Dent bleated under his breath, its tone indiscernible.

Doug’s face turned purple in his seething silence.

Dent’s face went pale in his  _ stewing _ silence.

Nick finished dragging his chair back to the box of donuts to grab another for the long night of glacial quiet.  _ That went well, _ he thought, pulling out his phone to otherwise occupy himself,  _ Hope the others had as much fun as I did. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in Brave, chapter 19 Lanny accidentally ate the toxic whipped cream and went into something of a… feral state until Gideon could inject the antidote into his gluteus maximus. During this state, he pounced Doug and dislocated his shoulder.
> 
> “Does paranoia keep you alive? Yes, yes it does,” is a quote Nick said to Gideon in Trustworthy, chapter 25 and to Lanny in Brave, chapter 16.
> 
> “Dr. Gareth Curry” is the boy lamb from the movie's intro with the "Cloven Hoof" cap and while his first name is credited, his last name references his voice actor, Madeline Curry; he was introduced in Trustworthy, chapter 16.
> 
> "Bleatspeak" is a pun on the Internet slang of "1337-speak", or "leet-speak".
> 
> Nick explains an interaction between Gabe and Tad from Brave, chapter 14.
> 
> Woolter and Jesse are Doug’s cohorts from the movie.
> 
> “Rain-gargler” is as vile an insult as a sheep could say or be said about; it references how sheep drown by staring up at the rain. Likewise, “Pleasure Island ass” is another insult but references the movie "Pinocchio".
> 
> Ulaf MacGrim is the younger brother of Ferris MacGrim (named in Brave, chapter 15), was alluded to Brave, chapter 13. The name references revision of the "Chronicles of Narnia" character and inspiration, "Maugrim"; "Maugrim" was the original name before C.S. Lewis changed it to "Fenris Ulf" (based on a wolf from Norse mythology) but a publisher changed the name back.
> 
> “ZU” is “Zootopia University” isn’t pictured in the main city map seen in the movie, but it’s between Deerbrooke and the Canal District.
> 
> The “Cloven Hoof” is a noted bar in the Meadowlands of Zootopia, frequented by sheep, goats, and other such grazers.
> 
> The “Black Sheep Market” is parallel to the "Black Market", this is an idea borrowed from NieveLion. Its name comes from the original and iconic workers of the market, whose wool was stained black with dried blood (as referenced by the macabre rhyme as sung by Doug and Dent).
> 
> Back in Brave chapter 13, Nick figures that the real reason why the Gravedigger was in Bunnyburrow was for an assassination and Magnus used his influence to hire him as an abductor.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> History is rife with unexplained yet rational gaps of knowledge until roughly 600 years ago, during the reign of King Richard Lionheart. It was during this time that the thousands upon thousands of interwoven oral histories were recorded for posterity, utilizing technology and cultural imperatives revolutionary for its time, thus upholding archives of facts and eye-witness accounts for future generations to know. Before then, when the world was evolved yet still dark, pockets of civilizations kept their own histories, some conflicting or nestled within others as species viewed it all from different the lenses of thousands upon thousands different kinds of "mammals". History was lost through malicious disputes and collateral damage; kept alive only by the continuing oral histories that stretch as far back as mammals can remember.

_ “What have you done!” someone yelled. _

_ … _

_ “Same as we always do,” someone else said. _

_ … _

_ “We don’t do this; not this…” _

_ … _

_ “We’ve always done this, old bun, if you ever bothered to point your ears-” _

_ … _

**_Crack._ **

_ … _

_ “You watch your tone, young buck! I should have never listened t-… to-… ungh!” _

_ … _

_ “Uh oh… What’s that? Speak up, I can’t hear you. Your heart medicine? You mean these- oopsie! I can be such a klutz… but look; I still have a few… Now open wide… wider… You’ll have to open wider than that; I’m such a terrible shot… There we go, all better… So, now that I saved your life, Dad, I think you owe me. First: you will never hit me again. Ever. If I see so much as a sidelong glance from you, I’ll show you how to properly strike someone. Second: take as long as you need to wrap up your affairs and leave me as your sole heir. Go off to an island with some playmates, I don’t particularly care; so long as you never come back. If you do come back, I’ll put you on a spit and throw a barbecue for our ‘patients’ and when everyone’s had their fill… only then will I kill you. _

_ “Alright, somebunny drag this sorry sack of disappointment back to his office and get him a hard drink, put some color back into those pillowy cheeks. As for the fox… you know what, I’m in a good mood right now, so let’s give this one back. I am finally rid of that worthless codger, after all. Toss it in a recovery tank and tell Clea to put in… I don’t know… something about playing nice with other kids; just make sure this fat, ugly hick leaves happier and sappier than when it got here. Maybe we can still squeeze out some decent data. Fingers crossed, everybunny!” _

…

Gideon awoke floating belly-up in a sea that was neither cold nor wet. Overhead was pure white but wasn’t bright, and what he floated in was pitchest black yet clear as it clung to his fur. Blue eyes scanned the “horizon” after he sat upright, perfectly buoyant despite a distinct lack of anything to sit on. So he stood and looked about until, at last, spotting someone else.

“Hey!” he called to the large figure, who he noticed was sitting as he was but unlike he was, had the tufted tail and maned head of a lion; unlike a lion, his fur was brick red and tail-tip was off-white, rather like a fox… rather like himself. Gideon approached, the clinging inkiness splashing about his steps until screeching to a halt at the lion’s pungent blood from fresh wounds scattered over his back…

“Don’t…” the lion warned, shaggy head peering over a shoulder and shrinking away some, “You ain’t s’posed to know ‘bout this, Giddy…”

“Wait jus’ a sec… you’re  _ Lenny _ , ain’t ya’? I’m usually bad with names but I recognized your voice. I didn’t figure you’d be all…  _ fox _ -colored; not that it’s a bad look, mind you,” he commended, finding that his thoughts were by far more vocal than he remembered.

“Yeah, I’m Lenny, not that you’re s’posed to know!” Lenny argued, hunching to avert his gaze, “I promised to never let you go back  _ there  _ and I’m keepin’ to it.”

Gideon held his hips and furrowed his brow, “Promised  _ who _ , huh?  _ I _ sure as shootin’ don’t remember a promise like  _ that _ .” He grimaced at the still bleeding wounds and rubbed his own arms, “Why ain’t you healed yet, even after all this time?”

The lion shook his head and with it, a gentle rattle of metal.

“Huh…?” Gideon wondered as he leaned in to examine, “You… you’re still muzzled?”

The maned head nodded and with it, another rattle of metal. His gray eyes lifted to meet the blue which came around to his front.

“And collared… C’mere, there ain’t no need for that,” Gideon determined and reached up to yank at the fastenings, tug at the buckles, growling as he tried to get his teeth in but each attempt proved only more difficult. “What in blue blazes…” he grumped and then sprung back when the lion trembled, “Oh, Lenny, I’m so  _ sorry _ , I didn’t-!” he tried to say. It was at that moment that Gideon noticed the shackled paws were cupped and filled with some of the same, clear, pitch black liquid that they stood in if constantly trickling through the fingers.

“You ain’t s’posed to know…” Lenny repeated, gazing to the reflections stirred within the ocean contained in his palms, “You ain’t… ain’t s’posed to… you… you got out, Giddy, you got  _ out _ … and I can’t let you go back there…”

Gideon huffed and studied the lion’s mitts. “But I  _ gotta _ , Lenny, because  _ you’re _ still in there, ain’t ya’? Gettin’ whipped and cut and who knows all else on  _ my _ account. I can’t just let that happen, now can I? Not to someone who’s always been there for me -- that much is as plain as day… so now, I’m here for  _ you _ ,” he decided and scooped as much as he could with his smaller paws and dumped it out… but it made no difference.

“Giddy,  _ no _ …” Lenny pleaded, “It’ll always be there, even if I pull my paws apart it’ll gush out and be even worse, so I just… I jus’ gotta hold it there and keep an eye on it, make sure it doesn’t get anywhere else.”

Gideon squared his shoulders and puffed up his chest to try again and again, even tossed it behind him... a little bit splashed onto his back and he howled when it stung every scar as if the wounds were fresh.

“Giddy!”

“I’m okay…” the fox heaved, paws gripping the lion’s folded calves as he trembled and knelt. “Something definitely happened then…” he wheezed, gradually climbing back to his feet, “This is just… it  _ surprised _ me is all; wasn’t expectin’ it.”

“Don’t…”

“I gotta,  _ okay _ ?” the fox barked, also trembling as he grabbed another pawful of that weird liquidy stuff and threw it on himself again, fangs grinding to whether the pain, “I always had others lookin’ out for me, and well… it’s about time I looked out for someone else, ain’t it? I only ever wanted to be accepted… and  _ liked _ … but I never thought about acceptin’ and likin’ others, now  _ did  _ I? I didn’t!” he yelled and grabbed more, splashing over his shoulders and face and arms. “I wasn’t ever good at anything, I  _ tried _ but I only ever gave up when it got too hard. I coulda… I  _ did _ blame Essy because she was better than me at  _ everythin’ _ , made me wonder why my folks bothered havin’ a failure like me…”

“Giddy…”

“I blamed Grav… and Judy… and Travis…” he continued shoving his face into the basin of the lion’s paws, every splash like acid on his scars, “I had t’be led by the whiskers  _ every _ where and to  _ every _ thing because I couldn’t get it myself… and I coulda stopped pushin’ the other kids around… holdin’ them in the dirt or dragging them around by their tails or ears or horns… it weren’t anyone who did that ‘cept  _ me _ … This is exactly… no, it’s  _ better _ than I deserve…” For three days he continued, drawing the inkiness and covering himself in it, all to the mocking, invisible cacophony of applause, jeers, and laughter.

“Giddy!” Lenny called, pleaded, his paws clapped around Gideon’s and holding them together, yet they were small; they both were, both kit and cub. Gray eyes looked into blues. “It’s gone…” he said, and indeed, not only had the memories passed but his own bindings were gone, as well. The self-doubt; the trepidation; the  _ blame… _ all felt like it washed away… A clean feeling, especially since the pain of his wounds weren’t there anymore. In the silence broken only by a gentle drip, as though freshly stepped out of a bath, they looked down at their clutching paws and opened them to find a marble of dark purple and blue. They stared at it together, gnawing their respective lips before Gideon brushed it with a thumb…

…

_ “Incredible…” someone said. _

_ … _

_ “It happens every time we run the numbers,” someone else said. _

_ … _

_ “One narrow window of calculable failure and he squeezed right into it. What are the odds?” _

_ … _

_ “I could run those too if you’d like.” _

_ … _

_ “Five years to condition twenty candidates… I didn’t expect all or even most of them to take to it but I was so happy to catch a fox in four, I didn’t realize that it was all I caught… Curse it…” _

_ … _

_ “Shall I give it another go, ma’am?” _

_ … _

_ “No; whether we like the answers or not, they are the answers we got. Wrap him up, send him back. Odds are he’ll crawl into a quiet hole like the others and that’ll be that. They always keep their promises, after all. If not… we know where he is.” _

_ … _

_ “Yes, ma’am.” _

_ … _

_ “Such a shame, too, but it’s the way of the world: try so hard and invest so much, only to hit a dead end. At least the adult trials show promise. Even if Magnus won’t appreciate them, we did find answers we weren’t even looking for, didn’t we?” _

…

Gideon’s ears flicked as his fur dripped dry, brow furrowed and lips puckered as he held the dark purple and blue marble. It then rolled through the part in his palms and sank down into the inkiness whence it came. “I…” he said and trembled, “I ain’t  _ too _ sure what to make of all that…”

“Me neither,” Lenny agreed and met the fox’s gaze that turned into a soft smile… which was soon shared, “But we got out, though, didn’t we?” Both he and Gideon were again grown, the lion’s arms reaching out to embrace the collapsing fox and cradle him against protective warmth, “You’ll be okay, Gid.”

“Oh, okay…” Gideon said, finding himself pressed against the lion’s chest, “I mean… I’m pretty sure I  _ will  _ be when I… I was gonna say ‘wake up’ but am I asleep right now or… am… am I dead?”

“Almost there, Gid, almost there…”

“That ain’t too much a comfort, Len, I’d prefer  _ not _ be ‘almost’ dead if I have any say in the matter…”

* * *

“Put him down here; grab that saline drip.”

“It’s not like what happened to Judy.”

“That’s because it’s the NH  _ serum _ , not some crazy new drug.”

“He was fine most the way in and then had something like a night terror.”

“Why didn’t you use the antidote? That’s why you have it!”

“Because it wasn’t the serum’s side effects, either!”

“He regurgitated it before it got into his bloodstream, so this has to be something different.”

“Wait, he’s coming around!”

Gideon’s baby-blues blinked at the bright light… and then saw that he was surrounded by rabbits and someone with a needle poking his arm. He screamed and flailed, tail puffed as far as it’d go as he scrambled as far as  _ he _ could go up on the hospital bed.

“Gid!” the girl bunny said, “Gid…” she repeated, somehow someway on top of his belly and caressing his cheeks, “It’s okay, it’s Judy; you’re with friends,” Judy soothed, bobbing on his heaving abdomen until breath at last regulated to a much more reasonable pace.

“Jude?” Gideon dumbly noticed for the wave of relief was quite insurmountable.

“Yes, yes! ‘Jude the Dude’, exactly,” she confirmed, purple eyes smiling before crawling off and to the side. The rabbit on the other side was… Bo, definitely (not many bunnies shaped like him). The one with the needle could only have been Dr. Madge Honey (the stylish, red collar was distinctive) which meant Preds’ Corner. And then there was Len-…  _ Lan _ ny, crouched at the end of the hospital bed, looming with visible concern. “You gave us quite the fright there,” Judy said.

“ _ I _ gave  _ you _ a fright?” he argued.

“We thought you were going into cardiac arrest,” Bo voiced, “That’s when Lanny put pedal-to-metal and nearly bust down the doors to get you in here.”

The lion shrunk back with some kind of guilt about him, “I might’ve…  _ imagined  _ a worse situation than it actually was,” he admitted, “But for good reason! I was called in during the Pred-Scare to help handle the larger predators, you know, when they needed feeding or cleaning… or needed the antidote administered. That kind of thing sticks with a mammal, you know?”

“Lanny, chill,” Dr. Honey directed, “I’ve dealt with all of them at their worst, so I know what you’re talking about. You did right bringing him here but I  _ expect _ you to act a bit more professionally,” she then chastised, “ _ especially _ with all those Knotash bunnies still here.”

Had a two-by-four struck Gideon between the eyes, it might’ve surprised him less. “They’re  _ still _ here?” he about barked, “I figured the lot of ‘em would’ve been gone by the next sun-up. What about the whole ‘back before midnight’ spiel?”

“Gid,” Bo carefully said, “that’s still a few hours off and sunrise more so.”

His brow furrowed. “But… wasn’t I out for a few  _ days _ ? Sure felt like a few days…”

“No, it’s still Tuesday,” Lanny explained, “You’ve been asleep… maybe an hour?”

Judy then stood and leaned forward, bracing Gideon’s chest with bright, curious…  _ knowing _ eyes. “Well, don’t you worry, you’re back here with us,” she then comforted and patted his shoulder, “And you if want to talk about any…  _ dreams _ you might’ve had, I’m all ears.”

“Oh,  _ uhh… _ ” he paused and glanced about, “I don’t s’pose Nick’s around, is he?”

“He’s standing guard over Doug and Dent back at the sheriff’s office,” Judy reported and then said behind her paw, “Is there something you want to discuss more…  _ privately _ ?”

It took some consideration but Gideon seemed set in sliding off the bed (and standing a bit straighter than he usually would). “A’ight, so… not sure who all here knows  _ what _ , but I…” he began, fingers twiddled some as his throat went dry, so he swallowed and wet it as best he could, “I was in pred-therapy as a kit…”

The room rang with the dual collision of Madge and Lanny’s jaws hitting the floor.

“And I _ kinda _ remember what happened; it’s more a blur of bad stuff with flashes of voices or jeerin’ or somethin’, but it’s a  _ clearer _ blur than it’s ever been.”

Madge’s jaw broke the foundation, thus deafening Judy’s audible shock.

“That’s… not  _ possible _ ,” the badger gawked, approaching the fox as though one of them were a ghost, “How…  _ why _ ?”

“It… it’s because Magnus wanted  _ me _ for some kind of experiment, all those years ago -- according to Nick, at least -- he and Clea needed kids to run tests but couldn’t get any from the city, what with Simon King gone missing and all, so I think they chose a few dozen pred kids from out here in the sticks to make into candy dates-”

“‘Candidates’,” Dr. Honey prompted.

“Them, yeah. Anyway, I was the only one that became a bully, I guess, so I was the only one they shipped off to pred-therapy,” Gideon explained, “which I guess they also pressured Pa into letting happen. Now, I know this’ll sound off-the-wall  _ crazy _ but bear with me a sec: I think -- I  _ think _ \-- they used pred-therapy to make-”

“Night Howler,” Judy  _ and _ Madge simultaneously responded but then the latter added, “I _ knew _ it…”

“How could you have known that the Night Howler serum was made in pred-therapy?” Judy inquired.

“How do  _ you _ know it?” Bo countered.

“ _ I _ convened with Nick after everything that happened with Doug,” she rebutted.

“And  _ I _ ’m only a crackpot conspiracy theorist… until I’m _ right! _ ” Dr. Honey griped and marched towards the door, “Everyone, follow me… actually, Bo, you have deputy duties, don’t you?”

“Mr. Barley ‘needs’ me ‘on-call’,” he answered with appropriate air-quotes, “I radioed when in range and according to  _ him _ , that unkindness of ravens put the fear of death into the Knotash bunnies, so all squabbles have since ceased, thus redoubling efforts to leave as soon as possible. There’s a  _ flow _ going on right now that adding another authority figure could disrupt,” Bo explained, “For now, it’s better that a bunny deputy is  _ nearby _ than  _ involved _ .”

“Then you’re with me. Lanny, Nick already texted me about your situation and he’s right, you’d make an excellent body double of Simon King… at least you  _ would _ if you were a bit shorter; Memphis is big but Tycho isn’t and Sara’s side is more on the stout end of the spectrum, so chances are Simon wouldn’t be so tall. A minor detail that anyone who wants to kill you would overlook, I’m sure,” Madge dismissed.

“More like a minor  _ comfort _ ,” the lion said under his breath but complied all the same.

“I really should call my folks; they must be worried  _ sick  _ about me, all things considered,” Gideon argued.

“Text them, make it as casual as you can and refrain from mentioning Doug and his serum dart. You survived pred-therapy and the Pred Scare Sniper, Gid, and that’s  _ phenomenal _ . I’d even say you’ve got someone looking out for you,” Madge added while leading the four of them to her office, and didn’t speak again until she locked the door behind them, “This isn’t the first time something like Night Howler’s been used to control predators and prey by pitting them against each other.”

Unlike everything Nick might’ve lead his friends to believe, the badger’s office was  _ not _ covered in string-webs, blurry photographs, scattered papers of “irrefutable proof” or designs of crop circles and horned skulls, but was remarkably  _ un _ remarkable in its normalcy. Books were neatly shelved, papers piled on the desk (not  _ pristine _ but by no means haphazard), and a healthy fern sat near the window (which was notably unbarred); tasteful artwork of nature-laced cityscapes shared wall space with portraits of past medical professionals (one of which was the autographed photo of Madge herself with an ursine doctor). Madge then pulled out a ring of keys from her pocket to click a fob at a filing cabinet. It mutely whirred so that the bottom-most drawer could easily slide open.

Lanny quirked his brow, “I thought that drawer’s  _ always  _ been stuck?”

“Mechanically stuck,” Madge corrected, fingering through thick files before pulling one out and setting it on her desk, “Prey have  _ always _ been afraid of predators… and predators have  _ always _ been afraid of prey,” she said. She sat down and pulled out cave drawings of antlered rabbits pointing spears at a large, saber-toothed cat, along with a pack of prehistoric dire wolves similarly facing off against an enormous mammoth. “It’s part of our biology and what kept us alive, pre-civilization. Prey always had the advantage of numbers but if that advantage is ever taken away -- as in, a one-on-one situation -- a predator has the distinct edge.”

Bo and Judy hopped up onto one of the facing chairs of Dr. Honey’s desk; she looked at another ancient wall-drawing, one showing a feline figure deified where they sat and surrounded by hieroglyphics, while he picked up a photographed parchment of a rodent kingdom contained inside the roof of an equine monastery. “This isn’t anything new,” he conversed, “One of the first lessons young bunnies learn is use of the buddy system.”

“It saves lives,” Judy added, “and not only to protect against aggressors -- whether predator  _ or _ prey -- but to act as support and emotional anchoring.”

“That’s right. This societal model was practiced throughout history, reflected in every epoch. It’s just not continuously connected, is all, beyond the reign of King Richard,” Bo said.

“Odd, that…” Madge mused and presented another printout, one of a tapestry depicting the king himself and his five knighted children marching to the Crusades, “It’s no coincidence that the Lionheart Crown remained unclaimed in the past centuries, and not just to keep it out of the paws of his corrupt brother. The subjugation of mammals took a nosedive but it didn’t go away  _ entirely _ . Tyrants and dictators alike exploited the perception that mammals could still revert back to their primitive ways to restrain, suppress, or  _ kill _ those that threatened their rule,” and laid out a sequential set of a lengthy scroll showing monstrous weasels prowling a hellscape, along with a photographed statue of a winged, demonic goat.

“Tha’s a  _ spooky _ lookin’ guy, ain’t he,” Gideon said.

“I’ve seen graffiti of him, especially around Meadowlands,” Lanny relayed.

The folder produced apothecary notes and drawings next. “There have been plants found around the globe that mimic the effects of Night Howler… fruits, mosses, fungi, roots… even certain insects or frogs could cause it but none lasted long or was recognized as anything beyond heightened agitation or panic; like the  _ midnicampum holicithias _ flower, it triggered a fight-or-flight response and then quickly died away.

“Unfortunately, there were those who upheld the ideal that certain mammals needed controlling to protect everyone else,” the badger continued, and then showed a painting of an antlered king in regal presentation, “Even as recent as Forestdwell. There is one story I heard with some interesting parallels, about a…” her eyes flicked to Lanny, “a  _ ruler  _ from a distant land brought to the Blessed Court. Stripped of his title and chained, he was force-fed something to turn him  _ savage _ and then was tortured for the court’s  _ ‘jeering’ _ amusement…”

Gideon and Lanny both gawked, ears pinned back.

Judy covered her mouth, looking especially distraught.

Bo stared aghast, “That… that’s not in any textbook  _ I’ve _ ever read…”

“I don’t imagine it  _ would _ be,” Madge replied, “I’ve come across a number of reasons why it happened, whether for the land’s resources, to quell an uprising, to remind everyone of a still-existing threat, or straight-up malice. Either way, such an event wasn’t singular or even irregular; Forestdwell, like other kingdoms throughout history, kept its second-class citizens illiterate on the superstition that they could write out curses, especially the smaller predators or ‘shifties’,” she said, earning an uncomfortable jostle from those listening, “It’s a nasty word and I don’t like it either, but that’s what we were called back then.

“In any case,” the badger continued as she gathered up the historical documentation to return it and the folder it came from back to the filing cabinet, “I suspected that pred-therapy was used to make the NH serum; honestly, there isn’t anywhere else you could get test subjects.  _ My _ mistake was that I thought someone started things up again  _ after _ PredaTherp, not that it’s been in development for…” Madge paused, closing and locking the drawer, “When did you say, Gideon?”

“Woulda been about sixteen years ago or thereabouts.”

“Shave and smoke me,” Dr. Honey grumbled, pocketing her keys.

“So, uhh… what about the Supais?” he then asked.

Madge stopped. “What  _ about _ them?”

“Pa was one of theirs before escaping north and Uncle John went toe-to-toe with ‘em when they came to the city over thirty years ago,” the fox explained.

The fuse for Madge’s eyelids must have blown, considering the irregularity of her blinking.

“Nick’s dad faced off with the  _ Supais _ ?” Judy said, both disbelieving and awed.

“I want to be surprised by that,” Madge wheezed as she rubbed her face in both paws, “Except I know Nick and it doesn’t surprise me at all… I was going to head up there to meet his parents but now I don’t even want to be in the same ZIP code… Gideon…”

“Y-Yeah?”

The badger returned to her desk and pulled out a notepad, scribbling something down and tearing out the page to fold and hand over, “Give this to Jackie. I was okay with telling her myself until about thirty seconds ago. Nothing against  _ her _ but her mate and brother-in-law are probable targets for an attack by the strongest drug cartel in Reino del Sol, if not the  _ world _ .”

Gideon grimaced but accepted the paper, “C’mon, Dr. Honey, it ain’t like they’re  _ radioactive _ or anything.”

“I  _ know _ ,” she sighed and leaned on her desk, “but I swore to myself that after Nick, I wouldn’t involve myself in any more foxes who attracted  _ that _ degree of trouble. I’m not going to uproot and move away or anything, I just… I need to make sure it doesn’t bring down fire and brimstone on everyone else around them.”

“Aren’t you overreacting just a  _ bit _ ?” Lanny rebuked.

“Of  _ course  _ I am,” Madge snapped, “and for good reason, too!”

“Jus’ what is this, anyway?” Gideon asked, looking at the note.

The badger huffed at the lion and put her paws to her hips, “It’s a genetic record reference number. I submitted a request when I found out that Nick had  _ muscular hyperatrophy _ ; despite the lack of research going into a cure, the city does provide a grant to those that have or carry it, since a DNA test is  _ very _ expensive without something like a genetic disease to narrow down several possibilities; and it helps track the disorder. They’re also confidential but as you’re related, I don’t see any issue.”

“Better hope it’s not  _ sealed _ ,” Bo pouted and crossed his arms, earning a consoling rub on the shoulder from Judy.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Bo,” Madge inferred.

“Thanks… I already accepted it a while ago…” he sighed but then scratched behind an ear, “When did you draw Nick’s blood, anyway? For the DNA test, I mean.”

“I  _ didn’t _ ,” she blandly replied but the mood did not seem directed at anyone present, “The request was to get it started, at least, with blood drawn after everything calmed down. Thing  _ is _ , I drew blood from Lanny to test for the drug and then marked the capsule with an ‘N’ for ‘nurse’, something that  _ I _ always do but the Knotash stand-ins didn’t know about.”

Lanny groaned and cringed, “Did someone mistake ‘WILD, L N’ for ‘WILDE, N’?”

“The ‘L’ was smeared a bit, so  _ yeah _ ,” Madge sighed, “It was already sent off today but I made some calls to stop it.”

“ _ Thank  _ you,” the lion abided, “I can barely fill my gas tank most weeks, much less afford a  _ DNA test… _ ”

“It was actually when I found out about  _ that _ ,” she then continued and pointed at the piece of paper Gideon slipped into his pocket, “Someone had already done a DNA test on ‘Jackie Wilde’.”

“But if they did a test…” Gideon wondered, “Uncle John  _ would’ve  _ said so, that’s for darn sure… When was it?”

The badger shrugged. “No idea. It was unofficial, only used the database and happens more often than anyone is willing to admit. I’m not her doctor so I couldn’t read it without hacking through  _ reams  _ of red tape. Who knows, maybe Nick’s got more cousins than he thought he did.”

Bo reached for his wallet and pulled out a crisp greenback for the lion, “Hey Lanny, here.”

“What’s this for?”

“Gas money,” the rabbit said and insisted with a gentle shaking as he pocketed his wallet again, “You’ve been driving us around all day and then some.”

The lion chuckled but held up a paw, “Thanks, Bo, and I know I  _ just _ said what I did about my gas tank but you don’t need to compensate me; I  _ do _ get mileage for delivering medicine, after all.” He grunted when a swift paw tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans anyway. “Really, Bo, I  _ can’t _ -”

“No backsies,” the brown bunny said in good humor as he and a giggling Judy hopped from the chair, “If you want to tear it up or burn it, then that’s your prerogative; what you do with  _ your  _ money is none of  _ my _ business.”

Lanny rolled his eyes with a dry chuckle, plucking the money from his pocket to add it to his official store of currency as he, and the rest of the group turned to leave the office, “Although I’m not sure what I’ll do with it now that I’m probably not leaving the area anytime soon…”

“ _ Now  _ who’s ‘overreacting’?” the doctor quipped.

“Why wouldn’t you leave?” Bo asked.

“I’m probably targeted by Doug Ramses for nefarious purposes,” the lion grumbled, “On account of some  _ imagined  _ resemblance to Simon King.”

The brown bunny groaned in realization and then studied his fellow iron-pumper, “Maybe if you  _ squint _ …”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Dr. Honey won’t just lock you up in her fallout shelter,” Judy teased.

“Hey,” the badger shot, “that is a  _ standard _ emergency bunker I had installed and I’m not ‘locking him up’; I will expect updates on your whereabouts, though.”

“Oh,  _ goodie _ …”

Gideon stood upright after stooping over. “‘Avoid situations with complicated explanations’,” the fox read from a folded napkin.

“‘…Most of all, having to explain your own secrets  _ after _ they’ve been found out’,” Madge finished, “Haven’t heard that in a long time.”

“It fell outta yer pocket,” Gideon told Lanny as he re-folded the napkin and handed it back.

“Oh, thanks,” he said, “It helped out a… a  _ friend _ of mine, so I wrote it down.”

“Nick says it,” Judy inputted, “normally to lord his cool composure over someone else when they’re in a dilly of a pickle. I like to lord it over him whenever he doesn't practice what he preaches.”

“He  _ chanted _ it after coming to me one night, right before PredaTherp broke, fur singed and in one of the worst states I’d ever seen him; I doubt he ever really recovered from that,” Madge said, “I think he learned it from his dad but about bit my head off when I suggested he should go talk to them if he was worried about getting ‘his secrets found out’. Nothing against you and yours, Gideon, but I have solid precedence to be wary of  _ anything  _ involving Nick Wilde. Trouble  _ always  _ finds foxes,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I’ve heard this,” Bo butt in, “‘but foxes  _ always _ lose trouble in the end; theirs is as terrible a relationship you’ll ever find in a mammal’, right? It goes back as far as the Teumessian fox: uncatchable and leaves a wake of disaster to anyone that tries their luck at it. It’s why finding a  _ single _ fox means good fortune and safety for an area because foxes know best where it’s safe to stay… but as soon as they’re gone,” the boy bunny then flicked a thumb over his shoulder and clicked his tongue, “That’s when trouble comes. It’s also why a  _ family _ of foxes is considered  _ ill _ fortune, though, because if a fox has someone to protect then they’ll stay and do so,” the historian rabbit explained, “That’s something I learned from Nick, too, that trust is  _ very _ important to foxes and you’ll not find a more trustworthy species… even if  _ earning _ that trust is a tribulation in its own right.”

“So…” Lanny wondered aloud, “Are foxes magnets  _ for _ or wards  _ against _ trouble?”

“Foxes are foxes,” Gideon concluded, “We ain’t some…  _ magical _ thing. We’s sly, simple as that, even if other mammals get put off by it, thinking there’s some other agenda goin’ on that we’re at the root of. It ain’t anything  _ unexplainable _ .”

“Hey, Gid, which way is north?” Judy asked.

“That way,” he answered, pointing off in a direction, “Why?”

She then shrugged nonchalantly and left through the door which Dr. Honey unlocked. “Yeah, Nick did that, too,” the badger recalled, soon leaving the office, as well, “Never could figure out how he always knew…”

Lanny’s furrowed brow rested atop curious eyes, “How d’you know which way is north without a compass or GPS?”

Gideon’s ears pinned as he grimaced and twiddled his fingers some, “It… it’s jus’ a  _ thing _ foxes can do… though I ain’t seen many others that could  _ also…  _ do that… But it’s  _ science _ , it is!”

“I think it’s really  _ cool _ ,” Bo chimed in as he left, too, for Dr. Honey ushered the lot of them along so that she could close her office door.

“Of course it’s  _ cool _ but it don’t mean us foxes are  _ lightning rods  _ for crazy or anything…” he petered off as he and the lion joined the rabbits in the hall, “I mean…  _ Nick _ sorta is and… I guess by extension maybe his parents… but that’s a big, ol’ blazin’  _ ‘maybe’ _ . Because right down to it, the Wildes are as great a family of foxes as ever a mammal could hope for and they do what’s right by them and theirs… and  _ then _ some; no matter the trouble,” he said, punctuating with a nod.

Madge sighed, “ _ Gid _ , I’m not besmirching their  _ character _ , I’m not even besmirching foxes,” she elaborated, “I’m simply saying that I -- me, Madge Honey-Badger -- have experience with Nick Wilde that can be described as ‘panic-inducing’ at the best of times and have yet to be proven otherwise;  _ granted _ … it works out in the end, if only by shaving several years off my life. Right now…” she continued and held Gideon’s shoulders, “I’m just a little concerned that the foxes -- and I say this with all the love in my heart -- which brought Nick into this world are a stone’s throw away. I will feel loads better determining whether they’re…  _ precursors _ or not.”

The fox huffed and crossed his arms… and then crouched to the nearest rabbit and whispered behind a paw, “Hey Jude, what’s ‘besmirched’ mean?”

“To say bad things about,” Judy answered, also behind a paw.

“Uh huh… and ‘precursor’?”

“She wants to know if Nick’s parents are just as troublesome.”

“A’ight, thanks,” he nodded and stood up again, “Okay, no hard feelings then, Dr. Honey. I’d say you’ve got nothin’ to worry about with Aunt Jackie; in fact, she keeps Uncle John in check well enough. And Ma’s there  _ too _ , you know, and she’s like…  _ anti _ -trouble. And don’t discount Essy; them’ll keep everything hunky-dory, guaranteed.”

Madge blinked in eye-rolling concession, “Fair enough. But if I see a  _ single _ Wilde tod go puff-tailed, I’m calling for an emergency evacuation of the Corner.”

Gideon held his hips in proud absolution, “You’ll see; no trouble comes a-knockin’ with the Wildes around,” he said, “that they can’t deal with.”

The badger sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose.

* * *

A vibrant bell rang through the night as in walked a figure that was tall for the shop but not his species, whose saunter was both confident and directionless; he likely didn’t have a destination, but no one was stopping him from getting there. He glanced about at the displays of hats, numerous hats of numerous kinds, all much better than his own ragged headwear that one might have considered “swanky” at some point in its existence. Impatiently he stood for the store’s proprietor, glancing around with low, muttering observations, the wolf a gradient of cobalt and burnt sepia beneath an open, weather-ravaged coat whose colors were little different than the aged brick and chain link fences outside.

Ears sprung and nostrils flared in the direction of the door behind the counter. It then opened to reveal a particularly rotund specimen of his own species, but whose saunter was determined, if amiable; he knew exactly where he was going, but did not bother in the specifics of ‘when’ and ‘how’. “Well  _ well _ ,” the wildcat mused, his smile as omnipresent and sardonic as ever, “this  _ is _ a surprise.”

“Chess,” the wolf replied, paw raising as if to lift the hat from his head, but only managing to tip it away from his eyes, while the other waved about in aimless gesticulation, “If I should ever find out what keeps your creepifying grin, it’d be no wonder if I don’t also catch it.” The hat was then raised and dropped irreverently upon the counter, the paw which did so limply addressing it, “What do you think, mate, salvageable? It  _ is _ my most favoritest of hats… although I guess being my  _ only  _ one as it is, it can’t very well help but be.”

The grin tightened and fangs glistened in the dark luster from the overhead display lamps. “You know better than to point your nose at  _ my _ shop for whatever reason,” he warned, “But… I can hardly turn away a mammal in such dire straits as the loss of a favored hat.” Masterful paws and eyes examined the dropped item, but unlike Chess’s earlier discretion with the special request of Jackie Wilde, he pulled out what was tucked inside. His bright eyes cast up as he flipped around a playing card: the Jack of Hearts, except the suits were tipped with black ink. “This service is  _ long _ since ceased, I’m afraid. As for the hat, I  _ could _ repair it, but in my professional opinion, it would be better to acquire a  _ new _ ‘most favoritest of hats’.”

It was the wolf’s turn to grin. “Mate…” he said, and leaned in on the counter, “I suspect the underlying message of our transaction has gone misunderstood, so allow me to clarify: I’m looking for ‘Jacks Wilde’ or other such involved activity, and I know at least  _ she _ was here in a very recent sort of fashion.”

“As I said,” the wildcat reiterated, setting the card down and sliding it away, “the service is  _ ceased _ .”

“And as I implied, I’m well aware that it  _ has _ ,” the wolf insisted, “However, I happen to know irrefutably that she gave you a special task, Chess, but since I’m being a polite-ish wolf today, I’m not just kicking down your firewall and taking the information all for my lone-self. So, now that we’ve cleared the air, how’s about getting back to my most reasonable request, ‘eh?” He put a finger to the card and returned it to the other side of the counter.

It was a duel of leering fangs, one set framed in unkempt fur and the other impeccably groomed. “Sorry, Mack,” the latter darkly said, picking up the dual-faced card and inverting it, “but it’s not worth my life to betray  _ his _ trust.

“That said,” Chess continued and flicked the card over his shoulder as he slid the battered hat to the side, “Perhaps I could interest an astute mammal, such as yourself, in some…  _ options _ ?”

Mack retrieved his hat to don it again, giving it a tip over his shoulder as he turned to leave. “It sounds like we’re at something of a crossroads; a shame, really. Apologies in advance for your servers… I don’t suppose you know another hatter, do you?”

The perpetual grin flattened until only the barest curve pinched at the corners to spare a single  _ tsk _ . “I should probably ask  _ why _ you bothered showing up at all,” the wildcat accused with a stare, “You already know who’s coming.”

“I know who’s coming,” the wolf said with a smirk, “Be it as it is, my self-interests are better served with something of a… a  _ crew _ , let’s say, others to whom I might lend my invaluable expertise.”

“If you wanted to help, you need only say so.”

“And sully my good name? I reasoned you a bit slier than that,” Mack considered, and then with a flick his fingers produced another playing card to toss it onto the counter, “Perhaps  _ this _ one still has some credit on it?”

Chess revealed the Queen of Spades, except the suit was colored red. Glowing eyes cast up in junction with his response, “ _ This _ is even further dated,” he calmly answered and, once again, tossed it over his shoulder, “And less a ‘service’,  _ per se _ , than a warning.”

The wolf’s gold-capped grin did no kind of diminishing, however, as he slid a pace forward to set playing card number three on the counter. “Third time’s the charm.”

The wide eyes narrowed before accepting what was likely a ruse, but Chess found himself…  _ curious _ . “Fair’s fair, you stumped me,” he dully chuckled and showed the King of Hearts, “I’d say at this point you’re just not playing with a full deck, old chum.”

“A little rumor from a Little Bird,” the wolf mused and once more doffed his hat to half-heartedly dramatize putting it at his chest, “The king has returned.”

“‘ _ King’ _ , say you?”

“No other ‘king’ I’d risk catching your grin over, mate.”

Vorpal fangs glistened in the dim light of his shop as said grin spread, nearly connecting his ear-tufts, “How splendidly  _ impossible _ …” Chess darkly purred.

“And a far shot it’s some meager coincidence that a Supai’s  _ also _ coming back to Zootopia,  _ savvy? _ ” he gravely insinuated, handing over his headwear, “Kings and Supais are a right dangerous mix.”

“Have I ever mentioned that you are  _ far _ too informed for your own good, Mack?” the wildcat remarked as he examined the hat anew, “Not that I mind, of course… and not that I would ever pry into your sources, old chum, but do you know  _ where _ this king of yours is, perchance?”

A thoughtful tap filled the gap of Mack’s side of the dialog before he, at last, gleaned an answer appropriate enough to give. “I’ll tell… provided  _ you _ , of sound body and mind, willingly volunteer such crucial information as to  _ which _ Supai is on their way. Could define my next course-of-actions, see, if he is who I think he is.”

Chess traced the hat’s rim while studying the wolf. “There are, in fact,  _ two _ Supais due to arrive: Zevon, and his daughter, Yzla.” In any other situation, the darknet’s worst pirate pausing to such news would have given Underland’s swiftest shadow a semblance of satisfaction, were it not the news itself that chilled the bones of those in the know.

Mack grimaced. “Zevon,” he repeated, “the Emperor himself.”

“Ever since his father died, yes, and went on to expand the Supai drug cartel until it all but consumed Reino del Sol in its entirety; Underland’s worst  _ did  _ move there after the Missing Prince  _ and _ PredaTherp, after all, if rumors are to be believed,” Chess affirmed, “I’m sure if Señor Supai ever found out who sabotaged his coat to rip those thirty years ago, there likely isn’t a place in this world even  _ I _ could hide,” he grimly relayed but never once let his grin drop, “So… now that  _ you _ know what  _ I _ know, let us talk of many things…”

“You can appreciate my discrete necessity, Chess,” the wolf rebutted, “This really is info best reserved for the likes of ‘Jacks Wilde’ so to best find whomever I’m on the lookout for… but if they should happen to find themselves in a non-specific, carrot-choked countryside…”

Bright, smiling eyes widened. “What an extraordinary coincidence, they’re already  _ there _ ,” the wildcat purred, “Not that I’m surprised, what with  _ his _ nose for trouble. You’ll understand, of course, that I will give no specifics to their whereabouts…”

The wolf shrugged. “I’m too close to jump the gun now, so this needs to transpire in a proper-like fashion. We Mallupes have done time enough… and there’s only one mammal in the world that can set things right. You know how to reach me, mate,” Mack said with a catching grin, popping his collar to turn towards the door and its enveloping night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a single marble of dark purple and blue which he brushed with a thumb…] is a nod to the representation of memories from Inside Out, and in this case, a mixture of fear and sadness.
> 
> [Odds are he’ll crawl into a quiet hole like the others and that’ll be that. They always keep their promises, after all.] In Brave, chapter 9, Judy, Nick, and Esther discussed how pred-therapy victims were possibly silenced via some kind of “mind-muzzle”; in this case, psychological conditioning.
> 
> [Judy then stood and leaned forward, bracing Gideon’s chest with bright, curious… knowing eyes.] Back in Brave, Judy underwent similar circumstances concerning Night Howler and what felt like a much longer time than what passed in the waking world.
> 
> [he and Clea needed kids to run tests but couldn’t get any from the city, what with Simon King gone missing and all] At the end of Brave, chapter 22, Nick explains why Gid was snatched up as a kit.
> 
> [cave drawings of antlered rabbits pointing spears at a large, saber-toothed cat] references the Natural History museum panoramas from the movie.
> 
> [Judy covered her mouth, looking especially distraught.] references Trustworthy, chapter 24, Judy's final scene in the Burrow and the Blessed Court, wherein she witnesses the torture and execution of an unnamed lion forced to eat a Night Howler flower.
> 
> [lightning rods for crazy] is exactly how Gid described Nick in Brave, chapter 16.
> 
> […Zevon, and his daughter, Yzla…] Zevon and Yzla are based on characters from Disney's "Descendants", wherein they are children Yzma, from "Emperor's New Groove" . For the sake of this story (and it is known in-world), Yzla was named after her deceased aunt.
> 
> ["let us talk of many things…"] is a nod to "The Walrus and the Carpenter" from "Alice in Wonderland (1951)".


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular perception, lions as civilized royalty are an exception to the rule, the reign of King Richard and the resulting royal capital of Liondon as a singular and tremendous example. Stags are by-and-large the iconic king throughout history, they and similarly archetypal mammals with towering crowns of antlers overhead and thick wreaths of fur around their necks, often interpreted as a divine designation to rule; interestingly, sovereignties in colder climates (i.e., reindeer) are prolific for their queendoms.

“…dash, seven, another seven, four, and then zero,” Gideon listed off with enunciation and caution, thus ensuring accuracy in its relaying across the phone call.

“This is amazing, thank you,” Jackie said as she wrote down the genetic record reference number while Ruth held the phone, “Nicky’s  _ muscular hyperatrophy _ must not be severe for it to have gone unnoticed all this time. I also didn’t know I was already in the system; likely enough from one of the less-than-official clinics I visited to get a gash sewn up.”

“You’ve lived a  _ far _ more int’resting life than I could’ve imagined, dear,” Ruth either commended or critiqued.

“That  _ would _ explain his appetite,” John remarked, legs spread as he braced the back of a chair with one foot and its seat with another, impeccably balanced on its rear legs while measuring the length from Goliath’s shoulder to his elbow, “I expected that kit of ours to put on  _ some _ weight in all this time but he’s still thin as a rail. It just goes to show that some things aren’t obvious until they’re spelled out, doesn’t it?”

“Hey, Giddy, there’ll be a new suit on your Pa real soon!” the large fox called to his son over the phone, “You should see how your uncle dances around on a chair, too.”

Gideon groaned with envious dismay, “I really wanted to see that!”

“Well, we didn’t know how long you’d be gone, little brother,” Esther relayed, “Everyone was on pins-&-needles and the dads needed something to distract themselves with.”

Ruth punctuated her daughter’s explanation with a relieved sigh, “I’m the happiest I can be to hear no ill came of that  _ dreadful _ ram.”

“A _ yeup _ , nothin’ I couldn’t handle…” Gideon assured, “I’ll tell ya’ more about it when I get back but it all ended as well it could.”

The maternal Grey vixen hummed, “Well, I know you don’t like  MuzzleTime , Giddy, but I could hold up the phone while you watch John measure Pa?” Elated approval was voiced to implement such an idea, and so it was.

“Oh, I wanted to see this, too!” Bo said, “I always figured that the size categories were strictest when it came to clothing, so it about blew me off my feet when I heard Nick’s dad measured a suit for a giant like Memphis King.”

“Does he use a wire harness or scaffolding?” another voice said, sounding a bit distant from the phone.

Gideon chuckled, “Neither! Jus’ look.”

As if on cue, John teetered, twirled, and stood the chair on a single leg before walking it around to Goliath’s other shoulder, who then held up a paw to state, “Ma, I hope that isn’t an  _ on _ camera.”

“Relax, Pa, it’s just Giddy and his friends,” Ruth retorted, “For goodness sake, it’s high time you got over your camera shyness, all things considered.”

“Wait, do that again?” the voice excitedly requested, much closer than before, “I’ll make sure not to blink this time.”

“ _ That _ is some  _ amazing  _ coordination,” Bo exulted.

“This here’s Lanny and Bo. Lanny and Bo? That’s my Pa and Uncle John, and who also’s there is Ma, Aunt Jackie, and my sister Essy,” Gideon introduced, “Lanny’s been helpin’ Dr. Honey while everyone else was out on the cruise.”

“We should have ourselves a proper introduction in the near future,” John suggested.

“Okay, so, this might be out of left field but when you say ‘Essy’ and ‘sister’, are you talking about ‘Es _ ther _ Gray’?” Lanny asked.

“Yes, that’d be me,” Esther responded, kindly so, “I  _ would  _ say that you have me at a disadvantage, Nurse Lanny, but I am already informed as to whom  _ you  _ are; shall I assume that you are informed of me in the same manner, that is, through the talk of a few mutual and present friends?”

He softly chuckled, “Actually, I recognize you from the Lionheart trial and I might have said something  _ sooner _ but… it seemed kind of obvious that you  _ weren’t _ related to Gideon because you’re from the city and… well,” he chuckled again, except abashedly, “your last name was spelled with an ‘a’ and not an ‘e’ at the time…”

Esther just sort of… boredly stared off into space and blinked, “I  _ really  _ should have raised more a fuss about that,” she muttered under her breath and then spoke up, “Always glad to meet a fan.”

“Yes!” Lanny announced, and his mouth sounded adjacent to the phone, “I mean, I’m so grateful to finally meet you. The lion community was torn on what Lionheart did and how he should be punished -- I almost lost some long-time friends over it. But what with the DA going after him like he did and what you said in his defense, it really brought perspective to his actions. And, you know, since it’s a fox that helped him, it was really a King Richard kind of moment,” he said, paused, and continued, “Which… isn’t wholly agreed upon by the lion community at large but you get what I’m saying, right?”

She pondered it a moment to give a knowing smile to her elders, recalling the story as told by Chess all those years ago, about how a band of nomadic foxes saved King Richard from assassination; perhaps it was that simple act of goodness which proved instrumental to the Crusades. “I certainly do.”

Judy then appreciably moaned into the phone, “Sissy, you just gave Lanny the  _ biggest _ smile,” she said.

“I’ve seen a bunny pinch a lion’s cheek; my faith in mammality is restored,” Dr. Honey said and then continued with severe implication, “Be that as it may, we still have  _ plenty _ to do tonight.”

“What sort of ‘plenty’?” Ruth probed.

“These strong, young backs offered to help with some of the Knotash evacuation,” the badger explained.

“From the sounds of things, Knotash is sending reinforcements along the train rail,” Bo elaborated, “It’ll be close but it should get everybunny back home before the midnight deadline.”

“Why, would they otherwise turn into pumpkins?” John asked.

“You  _ must  _ be Nick’s dad because he made the exact same joke…” Bo observed with a chuckle, “I look forward to meeting you, Mr. Wilde!”

“Bye, everyone!” Judy added to the plethora of heartfelt farewells before the call ended.

“Color me impressed, John,” Ruth commended as she set her phone on the coffee table, “you’ve got yourself a bunny eager to meet you.”

The tailor chuckled as he looped his tape around the wrist of his fellow, fatherly fox, “Incredible as it may seem, I  _ am _ quite amicable. Now then, Essy, something troubled you before the phone call -- don’t deny it, I can spot stewing a mile off -- are you at liberty to discuss it or do you need to mull it over a bit more?”

Esther brushed her bangs aside with a sigh (only for them to fall back around her eyes again), “I didn’t think it was  _ that _ obvious.”

“It’s not, your uncle is just obnoxiously observant,” Ruth consoled, “Thirty years and he hasn’t changed…”

“So I’ve noticed,” she teased and blew a kiss to her uncle, “We still love you.”

“Mm _ hmm _ ,” he grunted.

“As for what’s troubling me… I hesitate to even bring it up because I  _ really _ can’t be sure what to make of it. Call it conditioning but working in a law office has done a  _ bang _ -up job of clamping my jaw shut when it comes to spontaneous conclusions. In an environment like a courtroom you could lop your tail clean off in the doorjamb with one misspoken word,” she rationalized, keeping her knees pulled up with one folded over the other as she reclined on the couch.

Jackie reached and touched her niece’s suspended ankle, “You’re in good company here, we won’t judge you for any erroneous statements.”

“Outwardly, at least,” John added.

“Yes, we’ll keep it to ourselves until expressing it later in the funniest way possible,” Jackie then concluded.

Esther snickered and sighed, “It’s great to have extended family,” she muttered under her breath before sitting up and propping an arm on the back of the couch, legs folded beneath her, “Alright, so, first off, are either of you familiar with someone named ‘Mr. Never’?”

The Wilde vixen hummed as she rubbed her chin. “‘Never’…  _ ‘Never’ _ …” she pondered, “I feel like I  _ should _ know who that is…”

“We got a scrambled phone call from him several years back, warning us to ‘get in line or else’,” John casually recalled.

“ _ That _ putz?” Jackie answered, craning her neck towards her mate’s confirming grunt, “Rocky traced the call to a payphone over in… some abandoned street corner of Tundratown…”

“Crevasse and 157th.”

Jackie pointed over her shoulder. “That one.”

“Well… I met him today.”

John fell off his chair with a clumsy yip and a cascading series of collisions with every conceivable solid surface between him and the floor that the single piece of furniture could provide. “Ow…”

“John!” both maternal vixens exclaimed and then Ruth added, “Did you finally break your neck?”

“No, just bruised my pride a little,” he reported as Goliath picked him up and sat him on the chair, “Thank you. Alright, I’ll admit, that blindsided me. So you  _ actually _ made it into Never’s inner sanctum?”

“I  _ did _ ; the Felix sent me since he figured that his best chance at an answer would be if another fox dealt with  _ that  _ fox-”

“So he  _ is _ a fox!” John victoriously declared.

“A self-proclaimed ‘ _ alpha _ -fox’, if you can believe it,” Esther added, joining her father in a derisive snort (and would likely have spat at such a notion, had they been outside).

“Well, I’ll be darned,” Jackie conceded and then asked Esther directly, “and what do you mean ‘the Felix sent you’?”

“Ruthie, where have your kits  _ been _ all my life? These are stories that  _ need _ to be told!”

“You mean like the story I’m  _ trying _ to tell right now?” Esther said.

John cleared his throat and slid the chair away to busy himself measuring Goliath from the waist down. “Right; do continue.”

Esther gently huffed. “I’ll go ahead and infer that Mr. Never is one of those shadows of Underland that aren’t supposed to exist but have been cropping up anyway,” she posited and to her uncle’s confirming grunt, continued, “There’s a rabbit artifact that a private collector entrusted to Judy, who in turn entrusted to the Felix; I _cannot_ exaggerate the historical significance of this artifact. As it stood, he couldn’t get a straight answer from any respectable appraiser as to why it was intact _with_ its original artisanship but with _out_ it being a so-called ‘magnificent forgery’.”

Goliath then inclined to snap his fingers for the tailor’s attention, “John.  _ John _ . Measure first; faint later.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” John responded in a daze, “Just about finishing up, no worries, I was only…  _ stunned _ a moment. And Judy was one of those voices on the phone, easily distinguishable,” he stated to his niece's confirming grunt, still talking as he wrapped things up, “I’d very much like to meet  _ her _ too, have for quite a while. Alright, my good tod, I’ve all the dimensions I need out of you.” A snap of his wrist bundled the tape measure before he coiled it up neatly and properly, “I’m more eager than ever to hear this most  _ fascinating _ narrative of your daughter’s.”

The vixens waited as their tods sat around the coffee table; John’s notepad was had but not held, simply set upon the woodcraft surface before him as he beamed an anticipatory smile to Esther. She rubbed her paws and gathered her breath, “Alright, so… what do  _ you _ know about Mr. Never?”

Jackie crossed arms and legs to recline in thought. “Now that I remember the name, he is  _ the _ secrets broker, nestled deep in Underland and a ghost even to Chess (he’s never delved too far since  _ then… _ ). No one’s really sure where he came from or how long he’s been around.”

“ _ We _ only started hearing about him… not even two years before PredaTherp happened, and even back then it was up in the air that ‘Mr. Never’ actually existed,” John soberly picked up, “Few times they were that I felt the itch to find him but I was always talked out of it.”

“None of the stories aligned him with Pleasure Island and aside from an honestly  _ forgettable _ phone call, I never once felt threatened,” Jackie dismissed, “So as far as  _ I _ was concerned, I wouldn’t let any tod of mine poke their nose into Underland’s depths for the sake of adventure.”

“ _ Still! _ ” shifted John’s demeanor back to electric, “Most of us topside don’t do business with the likes of Mr. Never so finding out who or  _ what _ he was remained a pipe-dream of mine… especially since Jackie and I promised to leave that life behind. But the  _ Felix _ … and  _ you! _ Tell me as much as you feel comfortable with.”

Esther nodded and steadied herself as she revisited the course of events that began with being picked up by Finnick Faire, Boris Koslov, and Renato Manchas (the chauffeur) and ended with “The Loxleys; a forgotten bloodline of noble foxes from back in the reign of King Richard”. The younger vixen then summarized their escape before adding, “You’ll understand that I leave out a few crucial details,” she said, “I  _ am _ still under certain confidentialities. The Felix was  _ very  _ specific about what I could and could  _ not _ talk about.”

It seemed that all of the older foxes were surprised by the Loxley name, except for Ruth, who took her turn to speak. “Gunfire!” she about fainted, “First I find out about Giddy… and then I hear that my  _ own daughter  _ is dodging bullets! Aslan’s mane, it’s a good thing I unwound on that cruise or else I would be in a  _ right state. _ ”

“‘Luck’ly’…” Goliath dumbly repeated… and then corrected himself, “ _ Loxley _ , I mean…  _ Zorrita _ , is that why you asked about the name?” he wondered, to which Esther nodded, “But… it can’t be the  _ same _ ‘Loxley’ that I heard stories about as a kit… could it?”

“There really  _ are… _ or at the very least,  _ were _ foxes named ‘Loxley’,” Jackie confessed, disbelief promptly replacing cynicism, “This Mr. Never must have been one of Foxy’s lackeys… or maybe Foxy was  _ actually _ one of  _ his _ ?”

John hunched where he sat, paws folded and index fingers steepled under his flaring nose and furrowed brow… it would have been quite the serious picture if he weren’t also leaning his chair back with a foot braced to the coffee table, idly teetering with but the barest tilt of his ankle. “Yeah…” he mutely responded, “Essy, my dear kit, I have a question for you of the utmost importance but I’ll need to do something… admittedly  _ crazy _ first,” and then launched himself forward, rolling across the woodcraft surface to close the gap between himself and Esther. If Esther had reacted according to her reflexes, her uncle would have (or else, dodged) a foot to the face but as it was, she simply reeled back.

“O-okay?” Esther stammered.

“John!” Goliath protested.

“Hold on…” Jackie cautioned, “He’s done this before.”

Precise paws raked gentle claws along his niece’s cheeks before cradling them as he locked eyes with her, his tail beginning to sway behind him like a metronome, “Listen to me, only to me, focus only on my voice. This will be quick, only a step outside and then back inside, only a step,” he began to say with soft, alternating snaps near her ears in time with his each beat his tail made on its arc, “Close your eyes so you can hear my voice and only my voice, just a quick step outside to somewhere else than here and then right back in to where you were today.

“The acrid smoke, the dim lights, the whine of the ceiling fan. Finnick made some snarky comment about it all, the mole secretary has ‘too many pens of too many colors’ and she buzzes you in. The smell is worse, the lights are dimmer and there’s Mr. Never,” John described, recalling Esther’s anecdote and its many details not minutes before, “His face is red, his face is blue, and he exhales smoke,  _ horrid _ smoke;  _ breathe _ it in and remember that nausea you felt… and he takes you to a bright room, a clean room and the smoke is  _ gone _ ,” he said and blew against her face.

Esther gasped, eyes widened but still closed.

“He’s showing you the painting, the ‘fox nobility’ lost to the world. You see it, you study it from afar, of course you did, it was evidence, which you needed only a split second to discern its truth. You see the tod and the vixen and their kits… focus on the vixen… look at her, study her… what color are her eyes?” he asked.

Esther’s breath slowed as her face furrowed, “Brown…” she answered.

“Only brown?” John asked, fingers keeping their steady rhythm.

“Only… only brown…”

John’s ears pinned back… and then pointed forward. “You look at the tod, that ‘handsome tod’, you see his face and study it, focus on it, you see his eyes… what color are they?”

Her face softened a bit more. “Brown…” she repeated.

“Only brown?” John asked again.

“Ye-… no… something else… green…?”

“Come back,” John then said, snapping his fingers in tandem, “Turn around and step outside, just a step and then step back in again,” he instructed and loudly snapped both paws simultaneously to startle Esther awake.

“ _ Zorrita! _ ” Goliath exclaimed and came around to comfort her, “John, your explanation had best be-!”

John immediately pointed Esther’s chin and his mate’s chin towards one another as he asked, “Did his eyes look like  _ this _ ?”

Long ears (for a fox) pinned back and then pointed forward, blues eyes wide before they narrowed as Esther leaned in to better study her aunt’s green-speckled, brown eyes. “ _ Yes,” _ she confirmed in awe.

“The explanation I’m waiting for…” Goliath warned.

John sat back on the table and rubbed his chin. “That errant genetic record… it was submitted by Foxy all those years ago, more likely than not,” he reported and then nimbly somersaulted back over the table and onto his chain once again, one leg crossed over the other. The room’s attention diverted to him when he began a story as only he knew how, “It would be a  _ gross _ understatement to say that Foxy was  _ obsessed _ with Jackie.”

“He would… stare into my eyes like they held the world’s secrets…” Jackie meekly concurred, tail curling into her lap, “But… we didn’t hear from him for  _ years _ after you dropped him in the sewer?”

“It wasn’t the first time, either -- that he disappeared, I mean -- I recall you telling me he fell off the face of the planet for  _ several _ years, popping up only to court a possible mate; no doubt inspired to sire offspring after he discovered a ‘forgotten bloodline of noble foxes’ that he was willing to  _ kill _ to keep secret. Well, he knew all the eligible, orphan vixens in the city and figured it as fine a place to start as any; imagine his surprise when he comes across a set of uniquely colored eyes that  _ just so happens _ to match with a certain progenitor of the very bloodline he hopes to become a part of. He’s  _ ecstatic _ . He woos her, promising her love and family and everything she’s ever wanted…

“But he’ll need to make sure that this vixen, whose parentage is a mystery, actually came from where he thinks she did. So… he gets her tested, maybe he can pull a favor from a doctor friend of his to sneak a peek at the genetic archive. It’s expensive and risky, and more likely than not he might have a shred of Loxley DNA from wherever he found that painting; it would give him one shot, though, and in that shot, he found that not only is Jackie Wilde  _ indeed _ descended from the Loxleys… but she also can’t have kits.” John paused as he sat forward again, “Until she  _ did _ . One son, no doubt the heir to whatever Foxy wanted to get his paws around… maybe something to do with the World Heraldry Society, maybe he wants to be recognized as nobility…

“For those curious,” John continued, “Foxy wasn’t  _ always _ antagonistic towards us Wildes, in fact, I would even hazard a guess that he ‘turned over a new leaf’ on the night we, the Faires, and the  _ modern _ -day Loxleys first met each other at the elementary school orientation. There we were in the back of the auditorium, the three fennecs squeezed onto one chair… and there was Foxy, looking particularly put off. I quite remember his expression as it turned to spiteful glee seeing me with Nicky -- surely, he  _ can’t _ be Jackie’s kit -- and then he went full-on  _ incredulous _ when she caught up with us after a quick powder. I was seated adjacent to him at the time with my mate and kit on the other side of me, and even though I was conversing with Shane Faire, it’s not hard to imagine his dawning realization that  _ he _ had a daughter, and thus, a potential future pairing with our son; he’d only need to groom them accordingly.”

“But to what  _ end _ ?” Jackie argued to no one in particular, “There have been unsubstantiated legends of Loxleys for as long as Zootopia’s had a fox community but if there  _ was _ some long-lost inheritance, it  _ can’t _ have survived since King Richard’s reign; it would have been ransacked  _ ages  _ ago.”

“Unfortunately, the only foxes who I can think to ask are either  _ dead _ or undoubtedly shoring up his defenses after today’s events,” John speculated, “Barring a  séance , we’d be hard-pressed to strike up  _ any _ kind of friendly conversation.”

Esther still seemed deep in thought as she rubbed her mouth, “Uncle John… what was that thing you did, with the snapping and the ‘step back’?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Goliath agreed in a deep tone, “do explain.”

Ruth sighed a bit, “I think I actually recognize it. He’s always had a keen memory and even tried to ‘teach how he did it’, with each failed attempt sparking a more outlandish method. Not  _ all _ failed by the reckoning of many other foxes, but never quite to his own expectations. It got to the point that some in the Knottedwood wondered if John really  _ were _ a bloodwitch…”

Jackie nodded. “And in stepped modern science with a clever teacher like Chess. By joining a calm state with a form of hypnosis, he was able to revisit memories from others, usually to get exact details,” she began and then spoke more to herself, “There were times when we needed to…  _ extract _ information without causing harm or leaving an impression.”

“But… they are  _ memories _ and not  _ delusions _ , right?” Esther warily asked.

“I wouldn’t say I’ve  _ perfected _ the process,” John explained, “Others might say that, though. Why, what else do you remember?”

Esther rubbed her mouth again, her tongue passing over the fangs within. “Nick told me about the Loxleys the other night, about how Fuchsia had a gem in her tooth and how Foxy had a gold cap,” she said and then showed her teeth to tap one, “here; right here. I’ve seen plenty of mammals, predators with gold teeth, especially ones with lesser reputations.”

“That  _ would _ be the side where I punched him,” Jackie said.

“And… he  _ is _ dead?” the younger vixen asked, glancing up to address the Wildes, “Absolutely positive?”

“Yes, Fuchsia has his ashes and everything,” Jackie then assured, even if her tone did not wholly agree, so she turned to her mate, “Right?”

John studied Esther and then tapped his own fang. “This one?  _ This _ tooth?” he asked, and to her fervent nodding, rubbed his own mouth and returned his mate’s look, “That’s the theory.”

“John, Foxy crawled into a bottle-”

“Of a brand he  _ always _ hated,” the tod pointed out before elaborating, “He tried to bury the hatchet with me when Nicky and Fuchsia showed  _ any _ signs of friendliness, went on about how we should arrange their marriage, just like ‘in olden times’ and even wanted to toast their litter of future kits. That’s when he showed me his collection of hard spirits, many of which he got or gave as a gift but ‘wouldn’t even use as paint thinner’ before offering me some of ‘his prized possession’,” John said with only a hint of revulsion, “When they finally found him, he was surrounded by empty bottles of the  _ bad _ stuff. I always thought it  _ weird _ but figured his depression about Fuchsia severe enough that he stopped caring.”

Goliath grunted his doubt, “Why fake his death?”

Jackie groaned a bit, perhaps the sound of her own, buckling skepticism. “Foxy wasn’t… the  _ most _ faithful. There were three vixens I noticed at his ‘wake’,” she air-quoted, “all of whom had kits with them, both adult and young; I later found out that they were all  _ his _ ,” to a general consensus of disapproval, “There’s no way he could maintain any kind of trust in the fox community with  _ that  _ hanging over him.”

“And it  _ showed _ ,” John added, “I’m fairly certain more than a few loogies were hocked into his pyre. Plus, he probably had enemies that he needed to escape from, so the false identity of ‘Mr. Never’ surely became his  _ only _ identity. And since Fuchsia married a pig, there’d be no chance that she’d ever get together with Nicky, thus, there was no reason to keep Felix Loxley alive.”

“Nowadays, fox funerals don’t burn the body, that’s done at a crematorium, they only have the urn and a brazier with a symbolic flame in which bay leaves and scores can be placed,” Esther added, “It explains why Never wanted me alone, because Finnick would  _ certainly _ have recognized him.”

“A foul deceiver, if ever there was…” Ruth decided, “It does make me wonder whose ashes those  _ were _ ?”

“We may never know, it could be another tod of Foxy’s age and build that also died around that time, or ash from someone’s fireplace,” John answered, “All signs point to Mr. Never as Foxy Loxley… this is  _ huge _ .”

“That  _ would _ explain why his tooth wasn’t recovered…” Jackie said, quite evidently floored by the whole situation, “Should we contact Chess or Rocky?”

John pondered this, “Probably not a  _ bad  _ idea, although I’m hesitant to get a hold of  _ either _ right now; Rocky said he’d be busy tonight.”

“And Chess  _ did _ send me that Jack of Hearts text a while back…” Jackie said under her breath, only to elaborate for the benefit of the Greys, “Back when John and I were  _ trying _ to retire ’Mr. & Mrs. Foxglove’ but were still Rescuers, we had another calling card: ‘Jacks Wilde’, specifically for cases that no one else could solve,” she explained, “Chess didn’t say  _ who _ was calling (as is custom) but I can’t imagine  _ why _ they’d need  _ us _ when the ZPD under Chief Bogo can and  _ does _ handle any and all missing mammal cases.”

“We don’t  _ have _ to accept it,” her husband pointed out.

“Oh, is that actually an option?” she coyly mused.

“I know, a novel idea, right?” he coyly mused right back, “And yes, that is  _ me _ saying that.”

Jackie shot him a look. “Mm _ hmm… _ ”

“We’ll hear them out first and then decide.”

Esther seemed a good deal calmer when she asked, “ _ Is _ there anything we can do about Foxy/Never?”

John shrugged. “Unless you want to get him on tax evasion.”

“I’d need to brush up on laws specific to Subterraria, I hear it can be a  _ madhouse _ down there, but maybe I should finish with Magnus first before tackling any other ne’er-do-wells,” she decided, arms crossing as she reclined.

Before John had a chance at a witty response, the front door was knocked upon.

“It’s Lory,” Goliath reported after peeking out the window.

“Lory…?” Jackie asked.

“Mallupe, from next door,” the large fox answered.

“Oh  _ yes _ , that old wolf from way back when…” John recalled, “I actually met his son once, in the city, quite the affable fellow if a bit…  _ off _ .”

“‘Met’… you practically tripped over each other chasing after the same missing child,” his wife pointed out.

“Same difference.”

“Is  _ that _ what he was up to…?” Esther wondered aloud if to herself.

Ruth thrust an accusing finger at her own tod to prevent him from approaching the nighttime visitor still safely outside, “Pa,  _ you _ will put your pants back on before any sort of door-answering is had,” she chastised upon rising from the couch. The large fox strode over to the kitchen chair on which his trousers were draped, removed for the tailor’s measuring and since stayed. When everyone was once again sufficiently clothed, the maternal Grey vixen then opened the door to greet the (grand)daughter of their nearest next-door neighbor with all due hospitality.

“Good ev’ning, Mrs. Grey,” the wolf cheerfully greeted right back, still in her denim overalls and yellow-checkered shirt, but her black and dark gray fur was considerably less oil splattered, “Sorry to bug you so late and right after you got back from the cruise, but I was asked to run an errand by my big brother, Mack; said it was  _ awfully _ important and couldn’t wait for too long. D’you have a minute?”

* * *

A minute past ten-o’clock, the final echo of the final chime of the local parish’s clock tower all but a distant memory.

Deciduousville; the tail end of Fruit Market as it turns into Wine Lane, a stretch of shops that cater to a more mature palate.

Captain Alphonse Kela sat at a tasting table of one of the few establishments in the area that served those with night vision, such mammals that could read a menu in the glow of a dim streetlamp. After all, in a city ninety-percent prey, it simply wouldn’t do to illuminate a street if it wasn’t needed. With his platter of crisp crackers, soy cheese, and the choicest snake salami mostly eaten and his phone sitting nearby on the table, Alphonse swirled the deep red in his glass to remind himself of its aroma before taking another sip, letting its zest span the length of his tongue and every taste bud it boasted.

“I’ll take a bottle of this one,” he decided, the white-tailed doe waitress’s demeanor not even startled by the toothy smile, for his was a calming voice.

“Yes, sir,” she abided, “Would you like it wrapped?”

“Please, do. The missus does enjoy the occasional surprise,” the wolf mused, allowing for a single wag of his tail even though the foot which crossed over one knee did not bounce in the slightest to mimic such a reaction.

Her spotted head canted in amiable recognition before freezing, breath sucked in and neck straightened to direct both ears towards the street. The air became a little easier in her lungs when she smelled and heard a stag -- the shop’s owner -- loom behind her with antlers ducking the doorframe to see what was the matter (it was common for thick-maned, broad-antlered business owners to grow out their prongs  _ just  _ enough to scrape the ceiling at full height, as a form of posturing).

Alphonse knew  _ exactly _ what the matter was; he’d heard them prowling along from a block away and smelled them sooner than since they were upwind and wanted everyone to know it. It was a roaming pack of local wolves, young and ambitious and perhaps better described as  _ pups _ . They’d come up on the open-air dining area that lead into the main shop, their silhouettes outlined on the half-drawn curtain with pointed ears and noses directing them.

“I’m thirsty,” said one.

“Could go for a drink myself,” said another.

“And maybe a  _ snack _ as well?” said one more.

The biggest of the lot swung around and leaned an elbow on the waist-high railing after grabbing the mosquito-mesh and raising it overhead, “Hey barkeep!” he barked with a grin most mischievous, shared by his cohorts that soon joined him in view. Despite its abundance afforded to an outdoor (if covered) dining area, somehow every gasp of air was immediately sucked from the vicinity in totality when the local pack of “pups” realized exactly  _ who _ the oenophile was serving. Much to their dumbstruck relief, “the alpha wolf to whom all other wolf alphas defer”, whose scent they would have sooner recognized if they were not upwind, had not seemed to notice them.

Kela’s eye did not turn nor ear flick nor nostril flare to even  _ signal _ that they existed, and when he again spoke then so did time resume. “On second thought, perhaps I should instead pick up a  _ rosé _ , Keisha is quite partial to the sweeter end of the spectrum. What would you recommend?” he asked of the stag (as was proper etiquette, when another alpha was present).

The stag stepped fully into view and in front of the doe, his eyes scanning the pack before addressing his customer. “A Zinfaundel is my go-to when I need something sweet on the tongue,” he explained, “I’ve not tested the pairing myself but I’ve heard from my predator patrons that it goes best with the diamondback salami you ordered.”

“Is that so?” Alphonse pondered, “In which case, I’d like to ask another predator’s opinion on this exquisite meat,” and then turned his attention towards the wolves sneaking away to anchor them in place better than any steel bolts could have. He set down his glass of deep red to slide closer the platter of crackers, meats, and cheeses, thus presenting it to the would-be alpha of that roaming pack of pups. “Try a slice of the snake,” he offered, “and tell me what you think.”

Immediately and without question, the biggest pup nodded (but was careful not to lift his nose  _ too _ high) with a dutiful whimper as he reached, accepting the meat and nearly throwing it into his mouth.

“Savor it, let the taste cover your tongue,” Alphonse then instructed; though seated and leaning on an elbow, he still towered over the pup (in a way), “Too smokey?”

“No, sir.”

“Have a swig of water and then try the cheese, next.”

And he did so without an  _ iota  _ of hesitation, drinking from the other side of Kela’s own offered glass before similarly downing and savoring the cheese.

“It has something of a kick,” Alphonse said and noted the teary-eyed grimace, “That would be the pepper. Is it too much?”

“A little bit, sir.”

Alphonse nodded in thought, “Alright, off to bed with the lot of you; it  _ is  _ a school night,” he said and they scampered back the way they came with all due haste when his attention once more returned to the deer. “Sorry for that, I suppose I can be a little overly cautious when it comes to purchases,” he related in absolute nonchalance. The stag nodded when he could neither smell nor hear the other wolves and exchanged a glance with the doe before returning inside the shop.

“I like the White Zinfaundel, myself,” she then added when she calmed herself, “We have an excellent year in stock. Would you like to taste it first?”

“My goodness, no,” Alphonse chuckled, “I think that will be enough spirits for me tonight, at least before getting home. Besides, I like a good surprise every now and then myself. I’ll trust your word on the  _ rosé _ and perhaps I’ll get a cut of that diamondback, as well.”

“Yes, sir,” she abided and whisked off back into the store.

Alphonse slid the tray closer to eat another slice of the cheese, rather enjoying its ‘something of a kick’. The shop door did not ring for the wolf’s next visitor, as they entered in through the sidewalk gate and sauntered right up to his table. A particularly robust squirrel hopped atop a chair so to reach for one of the crackers on the platter after setting his phone and earbuds nearby. “Help yourself, Ramón,” Alphonse offered before sipping from his glass, “Would you like me to get you some water, as well?”

“Hmm? Ah, no,” the squirrel declined while grabbing another cracker, “I’m only out for a quick jog and then it’s back to the homestead. Just had to come down from the tree and walk around, y’know?”

“Sounds like a particularly busy day,” the wolf inferred.

“When  _ isn’t  _ it?” Ramón replied, “The Knotash tree requires  _ constant _ maintenance otherwise we get an earful from the bunnies below. Still running at ninety-eight percent efficiency, of course, even with all the work going on in the roots.”

“Are the water pumps acting up again?”

“The servers, actually; power and water have been diverted for  _ something _ to do with them, cooling and what-have-you. Who am I but a humble technician to question the higher-ups,” he mused and ate another cracker with a pleased moan, “These things are  _ delicious _ .”

“Yes, they were recommended by John himself,” the wolf mused, speaking of course about John Little, of the law firm  Bagh & Little , mutual friend of Ramón, and something of a  _ connoisseur  _ when it came to leisure foods, “They go rather well with the cheese. I recommend scampering before the waitress returns, though, as I’ve already used up my good graces with this fine establishment.”

“Right, of course,” the squirrel agreed and tore off a chunk of napkin to wrap up some cheese before stuffing them into his tracksuit along with his phone, “G’night, Alph!” A flick of the fluffy tail heralded the squirrel’s disappearance.

Alphonse addressed his mobile device to tap a notification with his thumb:  **File received** . It was little more than basic text, most of it in howlxidecimal from his plainclothes wolves down near Knotash. Being the alphas’ alpha of Zootopia (topside, at least) meant that any discretion on his part was a fever dream… which was why he trained the precinct’s pack to investigate what he could not. Ramón, as a member of the Knotash Watch (the part which kept to the branches, anyway) was a go-between to safely deliver such a message as Alphonse decoded on his screen:  **Night Howler confirmed at Hopps Plant. Magnus whereabouts unknown.**

Another notification then popped up on the wolf’s phone: his bill. Alphonse smiled as he tapped approval to pay for it, left an eighteen-percent tip, signed using a claw for a stylus, and then thanked the waitress as she provided the  _ rosé _ and diamondback salami he ordered to go. As a final touch, he left a four-star  Yelk review: “ArooOoo-woo-woOOoo”; while the ambiance, food, and service were exceptional, the chair was not exactly comfortable and the place had a certain damp smell that lingered. Additionally, the digital howl would provide the small business some moniker of respect from any other packs of pups prowling about at night.

With his goods and information well in paw, the alpha wolf left Wine Lane for home and his beloved mate; Keisha could perhaps use a bit of  _ rosé _ , knowing the week she had. Their pups would (presumably) be fast asleep and all that stood between him and her was the reconnaissance report. Since his wolves were dismissed as soon as they found out what Alphonse told them to (undercover work had little margin of error so even a  _ semblance _ of communication could give away crucial positions; in such a digital world, messengers were more trustworthy than messages, at times), he could rest easy knowing that anything he told Arthur was only between the two of them.

As the wolf climbed into the back seat of his hailed  Zuber and exchanged quick pleasantries with the kangaroo driver, he carefully considered how to best word his report and advice on how to progress… All the effort he and his friend invested into keeping the word and spirit of the law, especially in their positions of power, meant that every step required the law’s stringent adherence to, as well as keeping the trust resting on his shoulders. Failure to do so meant not only crossing Chief Arthur Bogo but District Attorney Conner Shere… and it was the one time Alphonse’s composure faltered as a shiver ran up his spine, dreading to feel that tiger’s fangs sink into him… in a manner of speaking, of course. Luckily for Alph, he picked up a few…  _ “tricks” _ from his “alpha’s omega”, Nick Wilde, to speak without saying or say without speaking (criticism notwithstanding, a wolf pack benefited from a trusted fox in its ranks).

Speaking of tricks, the police captain’s senses sharpened when the car slowed to a crawl and then stopped, so he addressed the kangaroo directly. “I can’t help but notice that we are not at my destination,” he kindly insinuated, earning a slightly concerned glance over the shoulder from the marsupial behind the wheel.

“Oh!” she said and quickly referenced her dashboard-mounted mobile phone, “It’s the route you requested, to pick up a friend of yours along the way, isn’t it?”

Indeed… Alphonse checked his own phone and saw that, while it was not the most direct way back home, it was the one that he “requested”. To this, he smiled, “Well, it’s a good thing  _ I’m _ not the one driving, then,” he said with a friendly chuckle, to which the kangaroo also chuckled. A pointy-eared silhouette approached the facing window as the door unlocked and in stepped another wolf. “Mack, so good to see you again,” Alphonse greeted, never once forgetting the sidearm strapped to his chest, “What happened to your hat? I was sure you’d go to the grave with it.”

“Likewise, presumably,” Mack responded, a gold-capped grin beneath the glint of his glasses, “It was long overdue for a repair, and aren’t we all? A top-down refurbishing to better the soul, ‘eh?”

“Put your seatbelt on,” Alphonse instructed.

“If you wouldn’t mind?” the kangaroo concurred, and when a soft click confirmed such an action, she continued along the drive.

“Oh, I  _ do _ love this song,” the alpha wolf then said, ears flicking to some modern music on the radio, “Turn it up a bit, please?”

“Sure!” she said, a smile on her lips and a bounce in her seat as she honored the request, “I guess good tunes span generations, don’t they?”

The wolves in back were profoundly relaxed as they addressed each other with only the barest physical inclinations of doing so. “I could have you arrested, you know,” Alphonse conversed in a low, quiet voice, “right here and now; brought in on charges the length of my tail.”

Mack scratched at his neck from his sunken sitting position, “Most certainly, but you won’t, what with ‘The Law’ and all.”

“You’re a lone wolf, Mack, you don’t follow  _ any _ law. Be that as it may, I know you wouldn’t do something as foolhardy as  _ this _ without an exceptional reason. So, since there is no  _ official _ warrant out for  _ your _ arrest, I would very much like to hear this reason.”

The streetlamps strolled by as the kangaroo driver showed no indication that she ever heard a word, not when she sang along to the music (if poorly).

“We’ve got ourselves a mutual mate, Alphie,” Mack said, “‘Little Red’.”

Alphonse knew he meant Nick Wilde, of course. “And what business do  _ they _ have with you?”

“Prob’ly the same as yours,” the lone wolf answered with a smirk, “Or more specifically, a mutual friend of a mutual friend, a special little someone who  _ I _ know is pulling strings. I caught wind how you have a vested int’rest in what’s happening in-or-abouts the Knotash area, both geographically and thematically. As for me, well, I was in the neighborhood and just figured I’d call in a favor with you.”

“You have no favors with me.”

Mack grimaced. “Thought I  _ did _ … maybe I could  _ ask _ a favor, then?”

“You have nothing to offer.”

“Oh, but I  _ do _ : information.”

Alphonse grunted disinterestedly. “The ZPD has a hotline for that.”

“About  _ Mr. Never? _ ”

That was no unknown to Alphonse, even if he knew as little about him as every other upstanding Zootopian. What intrigued the wolf was what Arthur’s mysterious informant cautioned them both against “easy answers”. It didn’t come across as irony if only for the simple fact that Nick similarly cautioned him before, and he was one fox that Alphonse could trust in totality. Regardless, he gave Mack a single benefit of the doubt, since he  _ was _ an elder son of a fellow alpha wolf of his own caliber, “And what sort of ‘favor’ are you seeking?”

Mack smiled as he straightened his coat. “All I want is a stay.”

“On?”

“You know what on.”

Alphonse sighed through his nose. “You confuse me with someone that can easily do that.”

“I only need a little time, Alphie,” Mack argued, “You know it ain’t right. The Mallupes were convicted of a crime they didn’t commit several centuries ago. Any paw of ours outside of Zootopia earns us a one-way to Liondon and tha’s that.”

“I know.”

“And yet you claim to follow some  _ ‘Law’ _ when your own kind suffers,” Mack tsked, “If a big, booming city hadn’t popped up within spitting distance of my ancestor’s exile, that’d be it for us, wouldn’t it? I’ve waited long enough,  _ too _ long, as it so happens, so if me and mine can’t find mercy and justice by those in the sun… then I’ll go see what MacGrim has to offer…” he warned, “But neither of us wants that. I hear he’s still sour over what I did back in Grizzly Falls…”

The alpha wolf was pensive and didn’t speak for some time. “As I recall, near every Mallupe went on that Caribouan Cruise with the rest of Preds’ Corner, a favor I did for Ed that was no meager feat. He even took the initiative to inform me that the rest of the family was willing to forgo the ‘unused days’ in hopes for future leniency,” Alphonse relayed, “What  _ would _ you need a stay for that you couldn’t have done in the past week?”

Mack sighed as well, but more through his mouth as he gesticulated his point. “I didn’t have what I needed until  _ today _ , which would have been rainbows and gumdrops if the cruise hadn’t cut short, savvy? Time is of the most crucial essence, Alphie -- Alph _ onse _ , I should say, oh toppest of wolves -- and all I ask is that the stay on my family’s exile be upheld for as long as it was initially. Give me until Thursday and as a sign of good faith, I’ll even let you in on a  _ particularly _ juicy nugget about Mr. Never. Not a bad deal, ‘eh?”

Alphonse didn’t waver as he reiterated, “ _ What _ would you _ need _ it for?”

The lone wolf swiftly calculated. “Only to get back to Preds’ Corner. I’d do it myself but the trip would take too long if I kept under the radar and I need to get there by tomorrow at the latest. So, how about it? Would you show mercy upon your fellow wolf for a day or two, and  _ not _ have him extradited if he comes out during daylight hours?” Mack posited.

As Alphonse said, if not in so many words, he could have informed the WHS over at City Hall that a grievous traitor to the Lionheart Crown had escaped their exile -- a punishment that followed for generations and generations -- that was only stayed for  _ law-abiding _ Zootopians (however minor and numerous Mack’s offenses might be) and on a strict case-by-case basis. With resolution and grace, “the alpha wolf to whom all other wolf alphas defer” was succinct in his decision, “Of course.” It only meant  _ not _ ending the stay early, after all, a decision that Alphonse was torn on and honestly glad to justify against bartering liberty for a family that -- whether wolves or not -- did not deserve to suffer for the decisions of someone centuries dead.

Mack put his paws together in a single, swift head-bow, “A truly wonderful moment for wolves everywhere.”

“On one condition…”

“Naturally, that ‘juicy nugget’ I teased at-”

“No,” Alphonse interrupted, every eye, ear, and nostril pointed in address, “Do not  _ ever _ delay me seeing my family again. I overlooked you changing my route tonight because I am  _ very  _ relaxed right now and your pleas to see your  _ own  _ family again have not fallen on a hardened heart,” he said with a single finger raised, “The stay continues until tomorrow and  _ only _ tomorrow. Savvy?”

“Crystal clarity,” Mack assured. Despite his infamy and his composure, having faced mortal peril plenty of times before… he had still gained the full, unwavering attention of not  _ a _ but  _ the _ alpha wolf, something he endeavored to avoid, even while begging a favor.

“I believe this is your stop.”

“So it is,” the lone wolf concurred and then spoke up over the music, “Driver! I had m’self a change of plans. Do me a solid and let me out here?”

“Oh, right, sure,” the kangaroo abided, pulling off to the sidewalk and unlocking the door.

“A jolly night to you all,” Mack said as he hopped from the car, only leaning in once more, “and give my regards to the missus,” he offered, pantomiming a tilt his hat.

“I will. Good night, Mack, and tell your father I said ‘Hi’,” Alphonse replied with as polite a smile as it was in him to give. Alone in the car once again, he got out his phone to report to Arthur… he would want to know that Mr. Never might  _ also _ be involved with everything already going on, a complication of indeterminable degree that could  _ not _ be overlooked. It also occurred to the wolf that Mack was talking out both sides of his mouth (as he was known to do), to which he pondered on the significance of Nick Wilde’s mentioning. Though he was set to return to the city with Doug Ramses and Dent Wooler, maybe his work in Bunnyburrow was not yet complete; maybe “Little Red” could sniff out why Mack Mallupe needed to get back to Preds’ Corner so  _ coincidentally _ . “Arthur will  _ love _ to hear about it,” Alphonse dryly observed to himself.

Granted, there was a trouble to trusting foxes, one he flirted with at each involvement of Nick’s in the Canine Unit but it deterred the alpha wolf by no means. Of all his wolves, Little Red proved himself the most capable when left to his own devices; his own  _ tricks _ … provided he was allowed to work them to their fullest potential. If only he could also get Judy Hopps into his pack but that would be a bridge too far, even for  _ him _ ; and what a shame it was. Not many knew it, but rabbit law was ironclad and a force to be reckoned with (provided there was a pre-existing law that it could bolster), and it simply did not allow her to become part of a wolf pack.

Oh well.

He had Nick and Nick had Judy, which sufficed. For the sake of the Law, it would have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [“…dash, seven, another seven, four, and then zero,”] -- 7/7/40 is the birthday of Monica Evans, the voice actress for Maid Marian in "Robin Hood (1973)"; her inspiration for Nick's mom can be seen in the movie from the color of her skirt and blouse, as well as the light fur-color on her paws.
> 
> [“…I heard Nick’s dad measured a suit for a giant like Memphis King.”] -- Brave, chapter 21.
> 
> For the curious, "Sissy" is Judy's nickname for Esther; it's inspired by a character she met in her head trip back in Trustwrothy.
> 
> The "World Heraldry Society", based in Liondon, keeps records of all the world's nobility and royalty, both modern and historic (with the last, largest kingdom being Forestdwell). It was established as a neutral party to handle disputes between modern-day monarchies in order to prevent wars but is considered more a "referee" or a "nanny" than any sort of ruling authority. By-and-large, the WHS meddles only in the affairs of hierarchical governing bodies and not democratically-appointed positions, like mayors or presidents. Interestingly enough, when the Waters family of Zootopia was investigated for corruption, the WHS was brought in to provide oversight on whether the mayor's office qualified to be defined as a "monarchy", which actually played a part in Mayor Joey Waters's impeachment. The office for the WHS remains in City Hall to this day but is largely considered a formality.
> 
> ["Fruit Market before it turns into Wine Lane"] because fermented fruit turns into wine.
> 
> "Keisha" is a reference to Rakasha, Akela's mate, from the live-action "Jungle Book (2016)".
> 
> White Zinfaundel is a pun of "White Zinfandel" and “faun”, which is a mythical goat creature.
> 
> ["Alright, off to bed with the lot of you; it is a school night"] -- Even though this story takes place in early-to-mid summer, the city-based school systems operate on a year-round schedule, as opposed to the country-based systems which have full summers off to handle respective harvests. The "pups" in this scene would be near the end of their high school years.
> 
> Ramón is a reference to the giant squirrel seen with Baloo in the live-action Jungle Book (2016), voiced by Sam Raimi.
> 
> [“We always are,” Ramón chuckled, likewise setting his own phone on the table, “The Knotash tree requires constant maintenance otherwise we get an earful from the bunnies below. Still at Ninety-eight percent efficiency, though, even with all the work going on in the roots.”] -- As explained at the end of Brave, Knotash is an enormous, artificial tree whose solar panel leaves are maintained by a squirrel community in its branches and the rabbit community in its roots maintains the water pumps.
> 
> [“John Little, of the law firm Bagh & Little”] -- This is a character referenced earlier in the story, whom Esther works directly under. He's based off Baloo from the Jungle Book (wherefrom Akela, Alphonse's inspiration, also comes) but his name comes from Little John from Robin hood; both bears have the same voice actor and character model, so it seemed apt to use them similarly.
> 
> "Yelk" is a pun on "Yelp" and "elk".
> 
> ["At that point, it meant not only running afoul of Chief Arthur Bogo but of District Attorney Conner Shere… and it was the one time Alphonse’s composure faltered as a shiver ran up his spine, dreading to feel that tiger’s fangs sink into him… in a manner of speaking, of course."] -- Chief Bogo and Shere Khan from the live-action Jungle Book (2016) are both voiced by Idris Elba.
> 
> Grizzly Falls is a location in the map from the movie, near Tundratown.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One and Two and Three and Four  
> Don't look now, they're at your door
> 
> Four and Five and Six and Sev'n  
> They'll lie and say they're sent from Heav'n
> 
> Sev'n and Eight and Nine and Ten  
> Run if you wanna see home again!
> 
> Ten, Elev'n and Twelve, Thirteen  
> Y'gotta stay fast, y'gotta stay keen!
> 
> -Dubiously "popular" jump-rope song, circa 25 years prior, taught to and by children of the Rescuers

According to the  Mammal Inclusion Initiative , as drawn up by Leodore Lionheart and Buckley Stagmire before their mayoral campaign, the Species/Culture Affirming Rules of Exception (or “S/CARE”, pronounced “ess-care”) apply only to situations where the city’s charter and the nation’s Constitution does  _ not _ , namely what affects certain mammals over others. Such restrictions and permissions have begun -- but have a long way still -- to placate the conflicts of so diverse a city as Zootopia, wherein hundreds of intermingling species coexist on not only a daily but  _ constant _ basis. Common examples are the public growing of catnip or the use of halogen headlights in certain ungulate communities, as well as simple misunderstandings of a dingo snapping their fangs in play or a rhino rubbing their horn against a telephone pole. Society, as a whole, does not practice such habits outside of private venues or interactions but they are still important enough to a mammal’s identity to warrant protection.

The MII and S/CARE promote species-spanning behaviors, as well, most notably the relationship between alphas, betas, and omegas. Whether consciously or not, most assignments of the “alpha”, “beta”, and “omega” roles in any given group (i.e., packs, herds, etc.) has less to do with an established hierarchy than the context of those present. In this and most ways, an “alpha” is a fluid title and descriptor, as in, “higher than” and dependent on whomever present is the largest and/or loudest, a position held alongside their mate (if the alpha has a mate); likewise, “beta” would be “lower than the alpha but higher than everyone else”, who acts as a gatekeeper or go-between for the alpha and the rest of the group. While some groups operate with further alphabetical designations, the general catch-all term “omega” sits at the end or bottom, a spot reserved either for the youngest, smallest, or newest members who still enjoy the protection of being in the group. The term “runt” is commonly a term of endearment for any newborn or child of the group (the alpha’s included), or if an adolescent or adult member of the same group is considered a child by the way they behave.

There are some alphas whose influence shifts or even extends beyond their immediate group, a tangible presence which, in many cases, defies their size, volume, or even species; such individuals gravitate towards positions of power, some more ambitiously than others. Interactions between alphas and their group, as well as alphas and those  _ outside _ their group, is paradoxically subtle and complex, as touched upon in Yolanda Gerbilski’s "The Waiter's Guide to Serving Alphas":

_ 1.) Don't. Find someone more experienced. _

_ 2.) If you absolutely  _ _ must _ _ serve an alpha, let them talk first and be very attentive of their wants but do not dote, you are  _ _ not _ _ their beta; you are a professional. _

_ 3.) If an alpha is seated with their mate, instead serve their mate and do so as you would any other customer. This is true even if more than one alpha is seated at a table, as the two alphas will engage each other while their mate(s) handle everything else going on. _

_ 4.) If there are two or more alphas but no mates or more experienced waiters are present, grab enough fellow waiters so that each alpha gets one and  _ _ only _ _ one. Alphas will not abide another alpha getting more attention than them. In the event that there are not enough waiters, let your manager handle them since they are far more abiding of whomever’s in charge. _

_ 5.) Never look an alpha in the eye. Ever. This is considered a challenge and if you want the generous tip and increased business that alphas are prolific for, then you will not posture. If you  _ _ do _ _ posture, then you might want to reconsider your choice of employment because alphas make  _ _ terrible _ _ waiters. _

Gerbilski continues to detail the precarious status held by alphas who lack the strength of conviction or loyalty of their group to maintain their own ego, thus collapsing under its weight and blowing away like chaff. Such “would-be alphas” (who are betas, more frequently than not) inevitably cede to the facetiously dubbed “alpha’s alpha” or “prime alpha”, a name which eventually caught on but rarely spoken aloud since it attracts would-be alphas like moths to a flame (an apt simile, indeed). It is not widely believed that alphas are  _ born _ , per se, as even the children of alphas are considered betas at best until they are otherwise proven (a staunch difference between alphas and monarchs, even if all of history’s recorded monarchs have been alphas). Rather, an alpha either formed their  _ own _ group or challenged an existing alpha for  _ their _ group, however, modern instances of the latter rarely result in the shift of loyalty as in the past unless the challenger entered as an omega and worked their way up into the betas. As a rule, only betas interact with alphas and vice versa. And as with every rule, there are exceptions.

The “alpha’s omega” is an individual in a group whose status is, in fact, equal to the runts by everyone  _ except _ the alpha themselves; they are rarely if ever the same species and have no direct ties to the group as a whole  _ except _ by the alpha’s say-so. An alpha’s omega is considered by some a begrudging role since they do not follow the group’s contextual hierarchy, and as far as anyone is concerned, are not obliged to the same degree of loyalty. In this way, an alpha puts their necks on the line by bringing such a mammal into their group (and if some of their group are particularly salty about the decision, will refer to them as the “alpha’s  _ pet _ ” or “favorite”) but there  _ are  _ cases in which it proved fruitful for all. One specific example is the inclusion of Nick Wilde into the Canine Unit pack of Precinct 1 under Captain Alphonse Kela (a decision initially scoffed at but defended as “technically speaking, a fox  _ is  _ a canine”).

So, after Nick decrypted and decoded the howlxidecimal message sent to him by Kela saying to  _ stay _ in Bunnyburrow rather than return to the city ASAP, he was conflicted only as to what flavor of snark his response should be.  _ I could go with ‘I told you so’ or ‘Make up your blooming mind’ but Alphie wouldn’t rescind his orders so immediately like this without the best reason in the world. This is actually a bit concerning, now that I think about it… if it’s more MacGrim business I’d be rather inclined to tell Dad about it, _ he pondered, _ Let’s go with ‘flippant but grateful relief’ and ‘just a twist of sarcasm’; that usually gives the big kahuna a chuckle. _

“Is that all of them, Wilde?” a voice high, high,  _ high _ overhead asked, just returning from a train car specified to the transport of criminals to and from the city in security and expedience. It was not modified except for its passenger identification system to disallow any civilians to enter, thus locking it down digitally.

“Every last curl of wool, Pennington,” Nick said, stowing his phone before bending his spine to address the officer elephant, “The rams are the decided problem of you and Johnson, now,” he reported, looking up to the officer lion leaning his maned head around the train door.

“It’s weird that Kela made a last-minute change like that; he’s more likely to ‘curse the torpedoes, full speed ahead’,” Johnson said, “I’d bet it was Bogo that convinced him.”

“Between watering his plants,” Pennington tacked on, “I mean… you weren’t even supposed to be here, Bob, but apparently, it’s a good thing you  _ were _ .”

“I owed a favor,” the lion responded with a shrug.

Nick loosed a hearty laugh, “Whatever the reason, Captain Kela needs me out here for the time being. Can’t say what about, though.”

“More super-secret Canine Unit business, no doubt,” she teased with a flick of her trunk.

Nick smirked and shrugged, if with amusement. “Literally, I  _ can’t say _ because he didn’t tell me.”

Johnson groaned empathetically, “One of those ‘hurry up and await instructions’ scenarios. Typical. Alright, let’s get this train rolling, my mate’s ready to pop; I haven’t missed a birth yet and I’m not starting with this one.”

“Said as if he actually has pull with the conductor,” the elephant commented under her breath, and then spoke behind her trunk, “We’ll be here for a bit longer, what with the  _ other _ top priority passengers still unloading.”

Vulpine ears pricked before their owner’s keen eyes glanced around her obstructing physique and down the platform at  _ the _ sleekest train car he’d ever seen and the unmistakable bunnies guiding  _ something _ out.  _ I knew I could count on her to overhear something about that _ , Nick thought and then slyly raised on tip-toes to, likewise, speak behind a paw, “Don’t hold out on me, Francine, you can’t just drop a nugget like  _ that _ without follow-up.”

Billowing ears flapped in response. “Alright, Nick, but only because I like you. A bunch of Knotash bunnies connected a private car at the train station  _ piled _ with heavy equipment. Can you imagine if the ZPD had that kind of budget? I tell ya’, private security is  _ paydirt _ .”

“It all looks like giant vacuums and stuff.”

“ _ You’ve _ been out here all weekend. Any news about it?”

“A bunch of visiting, uptight city-bunnies wanted the full country experience and I think they’re bringing in the big guns to clean up  _ everything _ ,” the fox whispered back.

The elephant laughed and bumped his shoulder with her trunk. “Stay nutty, Nick,” Pennington joked as she stood and returned to the train car.

“You  _ nose _ it,” Wilde joked right back, giving her a double-shot of finger-guns.  _ Dang… I wish I got that text maybe a few minutes earlier, otherwise, I wouldn’t have given Gabe the ‘okay’ to head back to Preds’ Corner without me… Guess I’ll go snoop on those Knotash bunnies or something; make sure those are only industrial-strength rug-cleaners that they’re shipping out. _

When Officer Pennington turned to step onto the train, Nick snuck in after her at his most casual gait, utilizing the elephant’s size to hide from anyone else inside as he headed towards the opposite end and its connecting door.  _ I guess I should also find out what that clown Mr. Never wants to do with anyone out here, _ Nick resolved, cracking open the door during an uptick in the conversation to cover its noise after turning off his phone’s GPS to spoof the train’s identifier. Once between cars, he then slipped up the roof-access ladder to take advantage of the shadow cast by the aesthetic, skyward arch and hide on the train’s darker side.  _ According to Kela, something out here grabbed Mack’s interest, and from what Finnick told me, it’s got to be something connected to Mr. Never, since he just had a peek inside his treasure trove of secrets _ , the fox pondered while skulking along the train cars’ tops.

Mr. Never was among the many, many names -- like Mr. Snatch and the Gravedigger -- whose activities earned them a place in Underland’s mythos; an icy death splashed down Nick’s spine as he considered how many of them were popping up so recently (and who he can say he’d actually  _ met _ , even if Chester Vander _ snatch _ was long retired from the unclaimed moniker of “Mr. Snatch” while Doug “The Gravedigger” Ramses was due to face punishment for his crimes). And there was, of course, “Dr. Cleopatra Lapis” or as some from the predator community of yesteryear called her, “The Red Queen of Spades”. It was a complicated name that Nick needed spelling out for him and, honestly, felt like it snowballed from what might have been an inspired bit of imagery.

As it stood, the Queen of Spades was worth thirteen points in the card game of Hearts (an unlucky number) and the color red signified blood while the spade represented a sword. As to why  _ this _ was so appropriate, it was a grotesque exaggeration of all the predators who “lost their heads” after seeing her. Nick abided the macabre pun when he heard it the first time and decided to never again ask why someone marked up playing cards to be used for secret messages; time was money, after all, and a hustler doesn’t get paid to stand around listening to homeless old coots ramble on about urban legends. A  _ cop _ , however,  _ does _ get paid to follow orders, so Nick shook the shiver out of his system to continue his professional prying. 

_ So, I just need to bug the Mallupes as to why Mack wants to come home so badly for the first time in over a decade… the fox thought unironically… and maybe I’ll be able to spend some time with my own family before we head back in the morning. It’s a shame Gid’s probably still out cold, I could really use the lift… I wouldn’t be surprised if he just slept for a few days. There are others that could drive me back, though, so nothing to worry about. _

_ Jeez, look at the size of those things… these bunnies aren’t planning to sweep the streets too, are they? Some do look like transport, though. That particularly fancy one looks more like an armored car; VIP stuff. Is someone else from Knotash paying a visit? It’s probably not Saint Felix; I think his helicopter went back to the city again. And Magnus wouldn’t dare make another appearance, the case against him is tighter than a drum, it’d be a huge risk… _

It wouldn’t be the first, last, or even the  _ worst _ time that Nick was reminded of his love-hate relationship with irony as his dark, pointed ears directed at a voice of chilling familiarity. A rabbit of ivory white fur speckled with coffee brown spots up the back of his head and ears strode into view, looking and acting like any other rabbit present. Even the suit he wore was rather mundane in its dark-gray fabric, rather like he was hardly up to anything except tagging along to see how things went.

“ _ Really _ , Magnus,” another familiar yet unidentifiable voice said, an albino rabbit following with a tablet that he never actually looked up from or stopped tapping on, “there’s hardly any reason to have made the trip out here. You should be keeping an eye on Grav if you  _ must _ be anywhere except the Manor.”

“Rest assured, Nivins, I come out here out of  _ duty _ to the rest of Knotash. The server maintenance is nearly complete and the technicians don’t need me breathing down their necks. Besides…” Magnus sighed, “Grav’s stable and Clea already tagged me out. Most of all, it’s important that I be here when  _ it  _ happens.”

“Knotash has these systems in place to  _ protect _ us, what little good they do if you step outside of them,” McTwisp rebuked, “That said, I can hardly deny your integrity, even with the entire ordeal that you and your family is going through,” he commended, looking up from the brilliant screen, “Not to mention your injury.”

Magnus’s paw raised to his eye and he winced, “Well, I only have my clumsy self to blame for  _ that _ . And we’ll get through this, somehow.”

“We’ve known each other a long time and I will defend you as I would any rabbit of Knotash regardless, but it is because of our friendship that I want nothing more than to settle this  _ outrageous _ debacle,” he said.

The coffee-spotted rabbit genuinely smiled and nodded, “Thank you. A legal battle with Oswald is the last thing I or anybunny of Knotash needs. The Lapises and the Hoppses have  _ always _ been excellent warren-mates, so I must do what is in my power to resolve this quietly and with dignity. How’s our schedule looking?” he then asked.

Despite the digital clock of his tablet, McTwisp clicked open his golden pocket watch. “My fur and whiskers, we are  _ late _ !” he nearly shrieked, grabbing his briefcase from a nearby assistant to secure the tablet inside as he announced to the crew of rabbits, “We’ll move out with the first cleaner, the rest of you will follow at the  _ soonest _ . You all have the address in the GPS so stick to the main roads and be sure to respect the local speed limits!”

Magnus’s face fell to a concerned grimace as he quick-hopped behind the scampering albino rabbit… His ears then flicked as he stopped on a dime and turned to glare at the spot where Nick’s head was a split second prior, a shiner mostly hidden beneath his fur despite the swelling. Dark eyes traced the roof’s edge and ears scanned minutely; his knuckles clenched beneath pelt stretched by a fist.

“What’s wrong?” Nivins asked, noticing that quite a few rabbits had joined in scanning the area.

“Thought I heard something…” Magnus distantly answered.

“As much as I admire a state of hypervigilance, Magnus, I must confess that you are not your steady self tonight, what with your muttering about whomever this…  _ ‘Johnson’ _ is. Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Nivins said, “Are you sure you’re up for tonight?”

“Yes, of course,” he assured, “It’s been a long day, I’ll admit, but this is important and I would rather handle it myself;  _ promptly _ . And ‘Johnson’ is just… an aside, don’t worry about him,” he then affirmed with a smile, “We’ve not a minute to lose, old friend.”

“Too true,” Nivins agreed, cracking only the barest grin as they both hopped into the fancier of the vehicles, “We should thank our lucky stars that the ZPD is on the same train as us. I felt myself  _ entirely _ at ease knowing that they were nearby.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Magnus chuckled.

Nick gawked down the length of the train towards where he left Pennington.  _ ‘Johnson’…? That Johnson? Officer Bob Johnson? _ he reeled and clambered to his feet but before he could break into a sprint on silent paw-pads, a beam shot up from that car’s roof-access ladder.

“Hold the light steady,” came a voice as the telltale shadow of long ears was cast into the air.

“Remember, just a quick look to make sure it’s not an owl,” came another voice.

_ Shoot! _ Nick cursed and turned on a heel to find that another set of long-ears spread their shadows just off the roof’s edge with similar vocal precautions.  _ Well, at least the train isn’t exploding this time, _ he determined and arched his spine into a taut spring to launch himself into the countryside grass opposite the platform,  _ The worst thing right now would be getting caught eavesdropping in my blues. How did Magnus even hear me? Why is he even here? And isn’t that McTwisp guy the Felix’s number one assistant? I think Judy said that once… maybe Esther said it. _

The fox scurried through the grass with all his speed to disappear amongst its tall blades, not stopping until he saw the sweep of flashlights blanket the overhead tips. He spun about and curled into a ball, tail tucked under him as he covered his face with both arms. The dark fur on his paws and ears, along with the dark blue of his uniform, hid the otherwise bright red fur and brilliant green eyes.

“Did you see anything?” someone asked.

“Nope, probably flew off into those trees,” another decided.

“Keep an eye out, I don’t want anybunny plucked off by an owl.”

“Roger that.”

_ Crud _ , Nick again cursed as he practiced all manner of caution in inching backward to the aforementioned trees, sparse though they were,  _ This just put a damper on my night… _ Several minutes of the flashlights sweeping the grass passed, counting off the seconds as the cleaning engines revved and departed. Breathing was kept to a steady beat and movement even further restricted until the lights, finally, disappeared as the train lurched into motion.  _ There are not nearly enough trees out here… _ he critiqued,  _ On top of everything else my tail is cramping and I’m getting a headache. In retrospect, I could’ve just walked up and asked them what was going on, I suppose, it’s not like they could’ve done anything to me, not with the police nearby… Unless Johnson really  _ is _ on Magnus’s payroll, which I would never have found out if I hadn’t spied on them. I can’t believe that he is, though, he’s honest to a fault, even his own cubs don’t buy his baloney dad-stories. But who else could ‘Johnson’ be? _

* * *

“And that’s the long and short of it,” Lory Mallupe said, the next-door neighbor to the Grey family and current visitor to their abode, seated on the couch with a cup of tea on the coffee table and her phone held out for the Wildes to see the marked playing card image sent to her, “Mack found a video of Mr. Wilde over there dancing a chair about, so told me here’s where I’d find you.”

Ruth calmly blanched beneath her fur as Goliath vocalized a single, affirming grunt in the back of his throat. Esther had her face in  _ both _ palms and muttered something about her foot and Mack’s teeth (namely the back of them and going up his tail). Both John and Jackie sat on the other side of the coffee table as though Lory were a client of theirs.

“I _ told _ you Mack was ‘The Sparrow’,” Jackie said to her mate.

“Yes, that you  _ did _ ,” John ceded.

The wolf flinched with a low whimper of denial and a shake of her head, some of the shaggier fur thereabouts shaking along with it, “‘ _ Sparrow _ ’?” she said with an awkward laugh, “We Mallupes only train  _ ravens _ , not… not  _ sparrows _ .”

“It’s really the only way he could’ve seen that video; I’d bet even Rocky would be impressed by that bit of hackery,” the Wilde tod speculated, “And I was  _ so _ sure I found an antelope from Ficus Grove that fit the description  _ perfectly _ .”

“Chess  _ told _ me who he was,” she then pondered, “Well… more like he let slip…”

“When was this?”

“Several years back. Apparently that whole…  _ event _ at Grizzly Falls was Mack and Chess.”

“ _ Yeesh _ , no wonder he never said anything.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Jackie assured to a fretting Lory, “We both have history with Mack, one way or another. Actually, I’m surprised he told  _ you _ ; The Sparrow’s misdeeds would be enough to land him in federal prison if they were ever pinned on him.”

Lory anxiously twirled some especially long fur in the unkempt mane around her neck with a single finger, “He’s not a  _ bad _ wolf, he just… draws attention from the wrong mammals, is all, which is especially bad for us Mallupes, you know.”

Esther explained the situation as she best knew it to John and Jackie’s piqued curiosity, “The Mallupes’s ancestor was exiled as a traitor to the Lionheart Crown centuries ago to an unclaimed wilderness that had a single known settlement over two hundred miles away, a wilderness which eventually grew into Horseshire and Bunnyburrow,” the local law grad exposited, “When Zootopia’s territory expanded to include those regions, the long forgotten Mallupe pack was naturalized as citizenry. Liondon found out and demanded their exiles returned but at that point, they were already protected under the city-state's -- thus, the nation’s -- asylum laws.”

“Liondon can’t touch us so long as we keep our noses clean,” Lory added, if meekly, “and… stay in Preds’ Corner. I’ve had a few relatives in the city that played loosey-goosey with the rules and were sent back here with a warning… others pushed their luck and were let gotten by Liondon… it’s why this Caribouan Cruise was such a big deal for us because we’d  _ never _ see the open ocean and come back otherwise. I wanted to go but… I’m the youngest, so I didn’t get to. Pappy stayed behind, too -- you prob’ly know him as Ed -- so I wasn’t alone.”

“We met them on the cruise,” Ruth said and then smirked, “quite a lot got seasick.”

Lory giggled, “That’s kind of you, Mrs. Grey.”

“Please, call me ‘Ruth’. Goodness, I’ve known you since a pup and even nursed you when your parents weren’t around; doesn’t sound right that I be referred to with such formality,” she said in good humor.

“A number of them wished you could’ve come along,” Goliath added.

“Really?” Lory hoped but then casually dismissed the notion, “Well, if I  _ had _ then no one would’ve looked after the ravens, it’s better that  _ some _ one was responsible in the last week.”

John clapped and rubbed his paws together, “Alright, I do declare I’m  _ quite  _ curious about this job of  _ The Sparrow’s _ . Who is so lost that only ‘Jacks Wilde’ can find them?”

Lory shook her head again. “He didn’t say, exactly, but I know there’s one mammal he’d look so hard for, even to come out to Preds’ Corner to meet you. Y’see, us Mallupes were raised on the story that our ancestor never  _ did _ what he was accused of, and Pappy will swear to his dyin’ breath that that’s the case. Ev’ry alpha of the family was given the same deal to end the exile, to accept that our ancestor was a traitor to the crown and atone for it.”

“Ed, and every alpha of the Mallupe pack before him, refused and so stayed ‘exiled’ all these centuries,” Goliath said, “I heard that one of his sons was willing to accept the deal once  _ he _ became alpha, except Ed’s a hundred years old and doesn’t look ready to give up on life yet.”

The wolf nodded in remorse, “The pack is on Pappy’s side in defending our ancestor’s honor…  _ almost  _ all of them, anyway. It’s why Mack left in the first place, to find out how to clear the Mallupe name. Was always good with fiddly-bits, kinda like me, even built his own HAM radio from scraps when he was eight, the way I heard it. Then he up and went to the city, poked the wrong mammals, stuck his nose where it weren’t wanted… it’s how he became The Sparrow. But he always trusted me and even sent me stuff for safekeeping. Well, he found something that he says could set everything right and that I was to get you both in on it.”

John’s paws wrung together. “Ex _ quis _ ite.”

“ _ Uh oh _ , he’s getting that crazy spark in his eye again,” Jackie said.

“As grand a story as ever there was, stretching as far back as known, continuous history can go…” John narrated, “But  _ do  _ stop teasing, Lory, who  _ is _ this singular mammal that Mack would risk all and more for?”

She rubbed her arm with a groan most awkward, “You won’t believe me when I say it…  _ I _ hardly believe it m’self…”

“Try me,” John challenged using his slyest grin.

* * *

Lanny Wild was bent over, blood dripping with each shallow breath. He didn’t react fast enough, it seemed, and so all he could do was call upon his medical training to stymie the flow, stars still in his eyes from the front-on collision which caused it. Gideon was in a right panic for his error in judgment and Judy, as was her way, did all she could to lend aid… sadly, she just couldn’t reach him too well. Bo, meanwhile, was sifting through the bed of Lanny’s truck and the pile of luggage bundled in a blanket, looking for the bag of comic books he stashed there before lending his aid as a member of the Burrow Watch earlier in the evening.

“I’m so sorry!” Gideon repeated for the umpteenth time, paws trembling.

“Gid, relax, it’s just a nosebleed,” Lanny nasally repeated, pinching the bridge of his snout while keeping a paper towel under his still dripping nostrils. Judy, short as she was, opted to hold the roll for the lion’s convenience, and having just moved his truck safely behind the clinic, were able to grab some extra cleaning supplies from the utility closet, from which Bo was fleet-of-foot to fetch what they needed.

Judy tore off another sheet in exchange for one splattered red, which she stuffed into a plastic bag. “What did we learn, Gid?”

The fox’s fingers twiddled. “Be careful when unstucking car doors…” he muttered.

“I’m gonna be clogged up all  _ night… _ ” Lanny rued and then turned to Gideon before he could apologize anew, “but it’ll clear up in the morning so that I can smell those delicious pastries you’ll make me before I head back home tomorrow, right?” he implied amicably.

The baker was eager to agree to such terms, if not only by the shift of expression but the tone of his voice and gesturing of his paws, “Y-Yeah, definitely! Muffins, bagels, donuts, them little cream tarts… you name it, I’ll bake a whole batch of ‘em.”

Down from the truck’s bed did Bo then hop, his bag of purchased comic books slung over a shoulder as he alighted on the ground, holding one aloft so that he might show it to Judy, “Okay, so, remember that thing we were talking about today, Juju, the Scarlet Clover?” he said and then turned to the lion, “Also, your laundry is  _ reeking  _ through your suitcases.”

“I don’t smell anything,” Lanny responded with as nasally a voice as he could.

An upright roll of paper towels served an ample post for the gray rabbit to lean her elbow on as she inclined to address the presented cover, “I  _ do _ remember, and we’d head to the Honey Hills after all this was over to continue searching for it. Why?”

“Right, so, Captain Warren’s got a long history, as you know; the tale of a war-time super-soldier that went through a slump in popularity about two decades back and was passed around by a few independent companies until he returned to the spotlight with his original creators. Additionally, there’s been some debate as to  _ what _ in that time frame was or wasn’t canon.”

“And the Winter Wolf was one of the more controversial arcs because everyone thought that the character ‘Bucky’ was a  _ hare _ ,” Judy casually recalled, “You were up in arms about it.”

Bo shrugged awkwardly. “He was the defining element of Cap’s backstory and constantly  _ referenced _ , if never  _ shown _ ,” he continued, rather evasively, “I’ve been after it for so long because I was only able to read a single issue before it was pulled from the shelves, plus, what was  _ supposed _ to be a bridge connecting rabbits and hares became a (sort of) bridge connecting predator and prey, instead.”

“How dare they,” Gideon wryly commented.

“It was later retconned and reprinted as ‘The Winter  _ Hare _ ’ but I would have been okay with either, I think,” the brown rabbit reasoned, sidelong glancing at Gideon’s next bit of brewing snark, “So anyway, before I go further on a tangent, I couldn’t help but notice something  _ particularly _ interesting about the Winter Wolf’s iconography.” He held up the comic book cover to the outdoor light of the clinic, showing a rabbit dressed in reds, whites, and blues with a perfectly round shield of similar colors in concentric circles and a bright, white four-leaf clover in the very center. Captain Warren’s stalwart grimace projected his determination and forthrightness to the audience as he charged towards the fourth wall. Behind him was a looming silhouette of the Winter Wolf, face partially obscured by a muzzle, through which bared fangs could be seen. A finger then drew attention to the Winter Wolf’s cybernetic arm, namely the emphasized symbol on the shoulder.

Judy’s eyes bugged and brows arched. “A  _ red _ clover… and look! There’s a scratch through a leaf…”

“As though  _ cleaved _ ,” Bo agreed.

“No meager coincidence,” she pointed out.

“I read a few issues on the drive here from the TBR but it didn’t really  _ strike _ me until I saw the blood splatter,” the brown rabbit said, gesturing to the used paper towels.

“It certainly ‘struck’  _ me _ ,” Lanny quipped with a chuckle, “But okay, red clover. So?”

“Does this have something to do with that thing you showed Nick this morning?” Gideon asked, “What with that ‘cleaved’ bit and all.”

Both rabbits nodded. “While it’s widely known as a ‘Fourth-Leaf Cloven’, it also goes by another name, the ‘Scarlet Clover’,” Bo said, “I’d heard it called that back at the Honey Hills.”

“And  _ I _ ’ve seen its progenitor artifact back at the Hopps Manor which, interestingly enough, was found on the body of a slain rabbit,” Judy picked up.

“Thus, the blood and ‘Scarlet’ descriptor, so far as we can speculate, that is,” Bo extrapolated, “I haven’t had a chance to read through the entire arc but I suspect that whoever wrote and illustrated it might have more information. Now, I  _ know _ what you’re going to say about kicking up more dust and all that, but what if Graham was trying to tell us something  _ more _ with that bauble?”

Lanny groaned skeptically, “By directing us to a  _ comic book _ ?”

Gideon quietly cleared his throat, “It ain’t…  _ unheard _ of…”

“Example?” he challenged.

“Oh,  _ uhh… _ ”

The lion’s head canted to supply his own brand of a sidelong glance (while still applying pressure to the bridge of his nose). “Y’know, Gid, I don’t know if it’s just  _ me _ but foxes seem to have this…  _ ‘caught knowing’ _ look about them, at least, the ones  _ I _ know beyond passing. Of which are really just you and Nick. Judy,” he then asked of the bunny with considerably less suspicion, “Do  _ you _ notice anything like that?”

Judy quite clearly played at indignation as she crossed her arms in a pout at no one present, “And here I thought he reserved that ‘caught knowing’ face for  _ only _ me… Be it as it may,” she then relaxed, “This could likely lead to something as simple as a connection of Graham’s with historical information relevant to our circumstances. I’m not sure who the connection might be or what it has to do with  _ wolves _ , whether the info or our circumstances, but perhaps our search for the Scarlet Clover is  _ not _ actually in Honey Hills, but whoever wrote the Winter Wolf arc.”

“Definitely not the original creator, I can tell you that much, they have a  _ completely _ different style,” Bo said, turning the comic over to reference the publishing credits, “ _ And _ I can’t be sure if they’d even be around anymore. This arc is almost as old as  _ I _ am and ‘The Tweedle Bros.’ only had a P.O. box in Conifer District back  _ then _ , so who knows if they’re still around.”

Gideon’s “caught knowing” expression worsened as his paws wrung. “‘Tweedle Bros.’, huh? Ya’ don’t say.”

“ _ Gid? _ ” Lanny probed and then teased, “You’re not holding out on fellow foxes, are you?”

His ears flicked and eyes glanced before swallowing the lump in his throat with a telling sweep of his tail. “Well, it’s jus’ that them ‘Tweedle Bros.’ are the same ones that make Mr. Foxglove, both old  _ and _ new, so I know they’s still around.”

“ _ And? _ ” Judy joined in, approaching to lay a paw on the fidgeting arm and calmly explain, “If you don’t feel comfortable saying it, Gid, that’s okay but there could be more here that we’ll need your help in figuring out. You’ve  _ always _ been there for me before, right?”

“ _ Yeah… _ ” Gideon accepted and though he certainly  _ knew _ what everyone else  _ didn’t _ , he seemed more willing to divulge, even if he took care in doing so, “It’s jus’ kinda silly, is all. Y’see, I wrote to them Tweedles when I was a kit -- big fan of Mr. Foxglove as I was -- and later learned that they get some of their ideas from news reports but made it all into big, awesome stories. Tha’s when I learned that Old Mr. Foxglove was based off a  _ real _ fox -- or as I found out -- a real  _ vixen _ .”

Bo’s ear’s sprung like sails in a tailwind. “Oh, that is so  _ cool! _ ” he exclaimed, “Does that mean that  _ this _ Captain Warren could have  _ also _ been based on a real rabbit, but his (or her) identity was hidden for…” his face then contorted in speculation, “Was their identity hidden for their protection or discretion?”

Judy rubbed her chin. “It really could go either way. Is the arc complete?”

“Let’s see…” the brown bunny said as he flipped through the covers, “Ye-…  _ Yep! _ This is the last issue and…” he groaned and sighed begrudgingly, “I’ll take one for the team and get to the climax before the build-up (which I could read later in retrospect).” The pages flipped as he skimmed, mouthing dialog or biting his lip before reaching the end and nearly  _ vaulting _ from his fur. “Okay, this just got  _ blatant _ ,” he announced and handed it over to Judy.

Both Gideon and Lanny peered over to read the comic, the three each expressing their own special flavor of world-stopping shock. Gideon’s tail erupted into a solid ball of brick-red fluff as his dark lips fell off his snout. Lanny’s nose finally stopped bleeding on account of all the blood draining from his goggle-eyed face. Judy’s ears folded back while her throat clenched dry and pained.

Captain Warren and the Winter Wolf were locked in mortal combat, the rabbit’s shield far from his reach as he, instead, wrestled the foaming jaws straining to clamp around him. The muzzle, it seems, was not designed to keep his bite caged but to  _ strengthen _ it which, judging by the predator’s eyes, looked more than willing to do. What  _ really _ caught everyone’s attention was the smoky-black, tendril-like talon tightening around the rabbit’s neck as he looked strained in not only fending off the gnashing jaws but to keep something inside his own mouth from escaping.

“It will probably make more sense if I read the previous chapters but Cap is using his own super-soldier immune system to neutralize some kind of virus or disease that turns mammals into living weapons; apparently, it was the only dosage or something and he’s still developing the antibodies for it,” Bo explained, “That’s when the Winter Wolf attacked and -- as you can see there -- Cap keeps referring to it as the ‘Death-Shriek’.”

Judy turned the page. The dark manifestation of what was likely the illustrator’s metaphor for the “Death-Shriek” tried to crawl out of Captain Warren’s mouth (as well as memories of better times with Bucky Barkes scrolling in the background). The veins which bulged with his effort softly glowed from the super-serum coursing through them (as was narrated in the nearby textboxes) due to his fists locked into the muzzle’s alloy grates, and in a single, mighty yank did he rend the device to pieces. It meant that whatever controlled Bucky Barkes was gone but… so was Cap’s grip on the wolf’s jaws.

_ “I could have killed him; killed us both…” _ Captain Warren’s thoughts informed the reader,  _ “I wanted to cry out to my friend, to tell him I was still there; to tell him I never forgot… but I knew even one word could unleash the Death-Shriek and then we’d both be goners. At least this way, one of us got to live.” _

“I think his body armor and super-toughness actually saves him in the end,” Bo continued, noticing the page they were on, “Cap’s gear is top-notch tech, after all, surely enough to withstand an unmodified wolf bite… unfortunately, there  _ must _ ’ve been an epilogue for this arc but… I don’t have it. I don’t even think the comic book vendor had it or that it was even published,” he said with a weary shrug, “It would explain why the whole thing was pulled from the shelves, honestly.”

The gray rabbit studied the page more as the two predators reading over her shoulders took a steadying step back. “Hey Gid,” she then said, looking at the aglow veins, “What else do you know about these ‘Tweedle Bros.’ comics? Like, why do they use real life stories and fantasize them?”

The fox groaned rather evasively but could hardly deny Judy  _ anything _ when she raised both her purple eyes to him. So, his fingers twiddled as his less-fluffed tail swayed behind him, “I happen to have heard that they hid messages in their comics, using symbols and stuff. Except don’t ask me  _ how _ I know, only that I  _ do _ ; it simply ain’t my secret to tell, beyond that.”

“Fair enough,” Judy abided with a smile and held the page up to the light, “So, these comics are (loosely) based off real mammals and could be rife with symbolism, one might say,” she speculated, to which Gideon indirectly agreed, “That actually makes some sense, considering that this could put a decisive end to a character who later resurged in popularity, and the ‘Winter Hare’ would probably be more widely received by their respective communities. Something I can’t help but notice, though, are the design of these golden, glowing veins. Do they  _ usually  _ do that, Bobo?”

“Not  _ usually _ ,” Bo answered, “Or…  _ ever _ , before this issue. Maybe it happened midway in the arc but nothing  _ I’ve _ seen.”

“Drat,” she said.

“Why?”

“Now I don’t have any precedence to compare these to,” Judy explained and then continued with a gathering gesture to the boy bunny before tracing the glowing lines, “Do they look necessarily…  _ smooth _ to you?”

Bo groaned in thought.

Gideon hummed cynically.

“No, not as such,” the local medical professional observed, crouching down (but not in the light) to do so, “They’re rather… prickly, except they go against the grain of his fur, as best I can figure, so it’s not just reflection.”

“What could Graham be trying to tell us…?” Judy wondered while flipping between a few pages.

“Who’s to say he’s trying to tell us anything at  _ all _ ?” Lanny challenged, “He can’t have known that Bo would get the Winter Wolf comics, so unless he’s prescient or still manipulating things out here (which I am  _ not _ at all comfortable with if he is), this whole thing might just be… fumbling in the dark.”

Muted grumbling came from the gray rabbit. “Maybe…” she admitted.

“They  _ do _ look like pricker bushes, though,” Gideon pointed out and then snapped his fingers, “Or like  _ brambles _ . Maybe the wolf is s’posed to be someone out here in Preds’ Corner, like the Mallupes?”

“Again,” Lanny retorted, standing up anew and balling up the paper towel to toss it into the nearby trash bag, “he couldn’t have known that Bo would pick up these comics.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about  _ Graham _ , I’m jus’ talkin’ about the Tweedles, what this Cap’n Warren story is s’posed to mean, is all,” the fox said, “I gotta admit, I’m a bit curious, too.”

The lion softly sighed and rolled his eyes, “If you really want someone to bounce crazy ideas off of, I suggest Madge. She’ll talk your ear off and then some.”

“I dunno if I wanna go  _ that  _ far…”

Judy drooped the comic some as her eyes grew distant, “Briar…”

“Ayeup?” Bo responded.

“‘Briar the Trier’ was scared-to-death, like in that jump rope song Nick told us about, remember?” she said to Gideon.

The fox quirked his brow in confusion before his eyes brightened in a blink, “Oh! Yeah, the,  _ umm… _ ‘drops his jaw at what he saw’ thing, with the screaming at the end.”

“That sounds…  _ vaguely _ familiar. The screaming bit after jumping rope, I mean,” Lanny inputted.

Bo frowned and groaned, “The city’s got a  _ jump rope _ song about ‘Briar the Trier’? I’m glad it never came out here…”

“But… how could I have known…?” Judy quietly asked no one, gently touching the page of the blonde-furred, blue-eyed depiction of Captain Warren, cleared her throat, and then closed the comic to return it to Bo and address the concerned faces. “Ever since I woke up from what that Night Howler drug did to me, I’ve had flashes like a waking dream, faces made from my memories as I tried to piece together everything I could about this case. An answer I came upon was ‘Bertie Briar’.”

“Thus, the death-shriek,” Gideon tacked on.

“And ‘Briar the Trier’,” Bo added.

“Right, exactly,” she said, “What was  _ very _ clear to me was I couldn’t have dreamt of anything that I didn’t experience beforehand. Well… I  _ dreamt _ of Bertie Briar and yet I cannot for the  _ life _ of me remember where I  _ saw _ him. He’s similar to Captain Warren in some respects and  _ very _ similar to  _ you _ , Bo, except his fur was… like a metallic gold and eyes a deep brown.” A significant pause lingered as Judy crossed her arms and tapped her foot, the conversation tangibly hanging on her. “It was critical to the case to find out who he was because he would’ve been a  _ huge  _ clue… but now we’ve figured everything out, yet he still plays on my mind because I can’t figure  _ him  _ out.”

Thoughtful humming trailed her statement before Bo spoke up again, “Have you ever been to Deerbrooke county since you went to the city?” he asked and then continued when she set to remember, “‘Briar’ has become something of an outlier name, as you know, and we tend to stick to the Honey Hills out here or Podunk in Deerbrooke (case in point, that’s where  _ I _ was born). Maybe you… came across the memorial to  _ a _ ‘Bertie Briar’, even one that ‘Briar the Trier’ might be based on?”

“I  _ have _ been to Deerbrooke but nothing’s ringing a bell, even those ‘Briar the Trier’ books aren’t cutting it,” she admitted, if hinting her frustration, “Although… his stories  _ did _ originate in Knotash, specifically the House of Blessings. I could always ask Nivins McTwisp, he acts as the House’s representative for the Felix.”

“Tha’s one busy bunny,” Gideon remarked.

“It’s him and his team of assistants,” Judy clarified, “He actually asked to meet me tonight at the Brambles Notary to get my testimony on what happened at the Hopps Manor.”

“I thought that place was a crime scene,” Lanny said and then snorted in some futile attempt to clear his coagulated sinuses, “Is it because Ramses was shipped off?”

The gray bunny nodded, “Jaguardo -- he runs the place, a friend of mine from school -- about blew a gasket when he saw the yellow tape and asked if I could do anything about it, so I called Rachel and she said it was cleared. I guess Mr. McTwisp heard about it, too.”

“The Notary and Records  _ was _ the first established building in Preds’ Corner, so it makes sense that Mr. McTwisp would want to meet there,” Bo added, “That message was marked ‘urgent’, wasn’t it?”

Judy wrung her paws a bit, “It was marked ‘official’, so about the same.”

Gideon groaned with some degree of worry, “This sounds like something you should have Essy in on,” and then paused at the shaking of a long-eared head, taken aback as he was, “Well, why  _ not _ ? Ain’t she on the Felix’s team now and weren’t they buddying about the city earlier today? It only makes sense that ‘official’ business should include  _ her _ , of all mammals.”

A flat brow and smirk answered as Judy gently pushed the air about in front of her, “Don’t worry, Gid, we can trust Nivins; he supports the Felix in this. I’ll make a statement about what transpired and be out before too long.”

“D’you want us to tag along, at least?” Gideon then offered.

“Honestly, it’ll be  _ so  _ boring,” Judy groaned, “I’ll likely be scolded for not keeping an itinerary.”

“Thanks for offering, Hoss, but Knotash has taken up enough of your time,” Bo reasoned, “I’ll just be reading comic books myself while she’s doing that.”

“They’ve got this handled,” Lanny added, “We really shouldn’t hover.”

The fox hummed with both paws at his hips, “That  _ would _ be awful rude of us.”

Judy smiled as she twirled his skirt a bit, “You two could  _ never _ be a bother, you’ve been a tremendous help today, tonight and just… all this week.”

“ _ Shucks _ , Jude, ‘tweren’t nothin’,” Gideon abided with a smile.

“It’s been a crazy couple of days, hasn’t it?” Lanny agreed in a chuckle and then peered down at the attention-getting batting of his leg with the back of a fox’s paw.

“I think I’ll be walking back home while Jude and Bo here go about their bunny business. How ‘bout  _ you _ , Lan?”

The scarlet eyes of the lion blinked as he glanced at the aforementioned rabbits, letting his ears flick, “Yeah, I think I’ll call it a night, too…”

“Could also come up to the Grey house and say ‘Hi’, give you and Essy a proper introduction?” Gideon offered.

Lanny declined as politely as he could with a rub of his nape, “I really  _ should _ play it safe. Ramses was shipped off to the city, sure enough, but that doesn’t mean I’m off the hook,” he inwardly huffed.

“I guess it’d be awful dumb to go walkin’ around in some shadowy place, like that there dark forest, huh…”

“It would,” he concurred.

“Might even be a bit dang’rous for  _ me _ to do that, since I had my face on the darknet, like, two days ago,” Gideon considered, casually crossing his arms.

Lanny glanced at the quirked eyebrow of Judy. “Hey Gid, if you’re not doing anything right  _ now _ , would you help me reattach the camper shell on the bed of my truck? I stashed it right inside the clinic. After that, we can hang out and stuff.”

Gideon grinned wide. “Yeah, you betcha!” he said and then turned to address a cordial Bo and a disapproving Judy, “So yeah, we’ll just be inside the clinic if ya’ need us, okay?”

“Hanging out, in the clinic, after re-attaching the camper shell,” Lanny verified, “Goodnight, for now, I suppose, perhaps see you tomorrow?”

“G’night guys,” Bo said.

“Stay out of trouble,” Judy flatly said.

“Bye bye!” Gideon bid as he then walked to the back door with Lanny, “You said there were some video games in the break room, right?”

“A few, I think Madge got them for herself…” he explained, petering off behind the door.

Judy’s foot thumped.

Bo’s foot rubbed the back of his leg. “They’re  _ not _ staying in there.”

“Of  _ course _ not, they’re going to sneak off into those spooky trees as soon as there’s an opening,” she griped, “ _ No _ regard for their safety or how they might affect their loved ones. Foxes really  _ are _ nexuses for trouble; lions, too.”

“Ayeup.”

“And  _ you _ want to join them,  _ don’t _ you?” she then accused.

“Sure do,” Bo answered unabashedly, gently bumping her with an elbow, “and so do  _ you _ .”

“But I  _ can’t _ because of this boring ‘bunny business’ thing I have to go to,” she fumed, grabbing her boyfriend’s paw to march around the front of the clinic and towards the designated meeting place of the Brambles Notary, mutedly grumbling in contrast to his smiling nonchalance, “Shouldn’t even  _ need _ my testimony,” she scoffed, “ _ City _ -bunnies, just can’t let anything  _ be _ …”

* * *

Silence hung indelibly around the Greys’ coffee table, mixed with disbelief and shock in equal measure by those present.

“That’s…  _ not  _ possible…” Esther declared.

“Not  _ probable _ ,” John corrected.

“You can’t be serious,” Goliath denied.

Lory shrugged quite abashedly. “Tha’s who Mack is searchin’ for…”

“John, Jackie, you’re  _ not _ accepting this?” Ruth probed.

Jackie loosed a long and heavy sigh through her nostrils. “Logically, we  _ shouldn’t _ .”

“As I said before,” her mate conversed, “we don’t  _ have _ to take the job.”

Lory raised her paws in assurance. “And I’d totally understand if you didn’t, considering the manner in which you got this fool’s errand, not to mention the fool’s errand  _ itself _ …”

“But… I  _ do _ like a challenge…” John considered.

“Putting the ‘fool’ in ‘fool’s errand’,” Goliath remarked.

“They could just as likely knock on our front door as be found with any wholehearted  _ search _ ,” Esther rebutted.

“Jackie, please talk some  _ sense _ into my brother!” Ruth beseeched.

Jackie calmly sighed and bounced the foot of her crossed leg. “Sweetheart, you were ‘challenged’  _ twice _ before, were you not?”

John thusly deflated and slumped against the arm of the couch, “I suppose if you’re going to just bring  _ those _ up, I can hardly argue with you…” He looked down at the paw squeezing his… and squeezed back, “You’re right, of course, per the norm.” So, John sat up and adjusted his glasses with all due professionalism, “Mallory Mallupe, we regrettably cannot accept your request.”

The wolf shook her head with a sad smile, “No need for regrets, Mr. Wilde, I weren’t expecting anything from it, truth be told, I’m just grateful you heard the whole thing out; not many  _ would _ .”

Goliath grunted in thought, “One of these ‘challenges’ was when you came back to Bunnyburrow, ain’t that right?” he asked and immediately flinched when Ruth’s tail swatted his leg.

“Hush now, there’s no need to open old wounds,  _ especially  _ in front of guests,” the maternal Grey rebuked.

“Actually, this wouldn’t go amiss,” John admitted, “You’re right, Goliath, what happened thirty years ago  _ was  _ a wild goose chase, probably to get me out of the city but it was also high-profile, a daughter of the hyena family that worked directly under the Kings. It wasn’t originally  _ my _ case, but ‘Jacks Wilde’ were called in because no one else could find her,” he explained to Lory’s nodding, “That’s the first time I met Mack, a teenaged wolf that stumbled on some errant communiqué using his homemade radio, unknowing that its sole design was to lead me out  _ here _ . Mack was already bitten by the adventure bug at that point so I likely just exasperated it, and he obviously made his way to the city… The rest is history, as they say.”

“Hold on…” Esther requested, her breath audibly shaken, “That hyena family… you’re not talking about the  _ Gévaudans _ ?” Silence once again engulfed the room if much more uniformly and grim, as was the nod which answered the younger vixen’s question. Esther cupped her mouth and muttered behind it, “Which means the daughter that went missing… she…?”

“Yes,” Jackie reluctantly confirmed, “You’ve probably heard the story, perhaps more than anyone normally would, considering you’re a defense lawyer that specializes in predator cases. Prima Gévaudan  _ was _ kidnapped but thought lost forever… until she resurfaced years later.”

“I know that name… She was the one that killed all those folk in the city, wasn’t she?” Lory asked, just a bit frantic, “Bit their necks clean through, I heard tell, took the ZPD  _ three _ years to catch her. One of the worst in the city’s history-!”

“ _ Lory _ ,” Jackie repeated for the third time, enunciating much more sternly so that the wolf could actually hear her. She then turned to his mate’s sullen expression as he idly wiped his glasses with a handkerchief.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright,” John said, “Now you know what happens when I fail. Some even believe that it was Gévaudan’s murder spree that put pred-therapy back into public favor, because ‘something  _ needed _ to be done’.”

“ _ Not _ your fault,” Jackie insisted, no less stern.

“As you’ve mentioned over the years,” he dully said and put his glasses back on, “I suppose since we’re on the subject, we could just segue into the  _ other _ time I failed so cataclysmically.”

“John,  _ really _ …”

“Why not? The entire city already knows about it.”

“Either tell it or  _ don’t _ ,” Goliath barked and then turned to Lory, “We’re apologizing, Lory, this is kind of a weird time right now.”

“I should prob’ly go… Thank you for the tea, Ruth,” the wolf said.

John rubbed the side of his snout before he spoke a bit kindlier, “I get the impression you want to hear the story, though.”

She rubbed her wrist and tucked her tail a bit, “Well… maybe a  _ little _ …”

“Then please forgive me for my uncouth behavior, not only in front of a guest but a friend of the family’s. Telling this will better explain the situation you found us,” John requested. When Lory nodded and relaxed where she sat, he then continued. “To get you up to speed (although a clever girl like you likely figured this much out already) Jackie and I specialized in finding lost mammals. We retired many years before the Pred-Scare happened and you could not  _ imagine _ the fire under my tail to go out and search for them. But…”

“We both agreed to leave that life behind and let the police handle such matters,” Jackie picked up, “A lot of good was done in our time and for it, a high price paid. We were just private citizens and taking the law into our own paws was not the right way to bring about justice… even if we felt backed into a corner to do so.”

“That said,” John continued, “we still aided the Borough Watch of our community whenever we could, in normal ways. Twenty years ago, one case swept the city and changed everything: Simon King’s cubnapping. It brought  _ everything _ into the light of day. The most protected cub in the entire city swiped off the most protected estate, in broad daylight  _ and _ with his close friend, Ryan Wild. Three days later,  _ Ryan _ was found curled in a ball inside a Pridelands shipping container but no sign of Simon. No ransom letter, no phone call,  _ nothing _ . As far as anyone knew, Simon King disappeared into thin air.

“Jackie joined the Watch to search out in Bunnyburrow and Horseshire since that’s where he was last seen. She knew how to find lost children and was one of the best at it.  _ I _ , you might wonder, was  _ not _ out here. You see, as soon as I heard that little Ryan was found at the shipyard extension on the other side of the river from Lionsgate, I  _ knew _ Simon was nearby. I told no one, not even Jackie-”

“Because you’re impetuous,” she tacked on, “You were leaning back in a chair in the kitchen when I got that phone call but when I turned around, the chair had fallen over, the front door slammed, and your ugly, powder blue jacket was missing from the coat rack.”

“Too true,” John conceded, “That thing was  _ hideous _ but also the style at the time. Anyway, as I had tailored a suit for young Simon earlier that year, I had a reasonable measurement of his inseam and height along with his demeanor and general reaction to things so I could track his stride and scent. Both of these I, indeed, found outside the shipping container where Ryan hid and it was clear to me that he was still running. I almost lost his trail  _ several _ times in Big Dune, considering it was at least two days cold and he was  _ excellent _ at hiding… despite all that, I managed to track him to the Sahara Square expanse.

“It was far less developed twenty years ago and the shifting sand dunes covered more of the area than it does today; more importantly, there was a sandstorm scheduled too soon for comfort. Now, Simon wasn’t stupid enough to just run out into the desert… but was he  _ desperate _ enough?” John sighed, “This I agonized over, knowing full well that he was still chased and that was when, by sheer  _ luck _ , I spotted the Palm Hotel off in the distance. That’s not where it was supposed to be, though; I have a keen sense of direction you see.  _ I _ knew it was a mirage, but would Simon know that? Would he have the faculty to understand that if he ran out to it, he’d be lost amongst the sand dunes? More importantly, did he think he could make it? I felt in my gut that he was brave enough to  _ try _ .”

Esther sat up and leaned forward to ask as objectively as possible, “Uncle John, if you knew where Simon was last seen, why did you not tell anyone?”

“It would have been one of a hundred different Simon King sightings, even after only three days and they, at least, claimed to have  _ seen _ him,” he simply answered, “Not to put too fine a point on it, but who would believe a  _ fox _ ?” John partially reclined, an arm on the back of the couch behind his mate, heavy with the story he told, “I went to the Palm Hotel after that, hoping against hope, following a rumor that an ‘old friend’ of mine was there, Vinny Corlione -- not a familiar name, Lory? Then don’t worry about it, you can zoogle him later -- I found out that he, also a lion, was seen with a male lion cub of Simon’s age and build; his nephew, as it turned out. And that was that.

“I still tailored for Memphis King in the years to follow and it was clear to me that losing his son had broken him. Did every impulse in me surge to tell him that I was likely the last mammal in the city to know where Simon was? Without a doubt… Would it have mattered? Could it bring Simon back, living or dead? No.”

“But… no body was found in the next dune-sweep, was there?” Esther then asked, “Otherwise, Simon would have had a funeral.”

“Astutely observed, Essy,” John sadly smiled, “How _ ever _ , it does mean that even  _ I _ do not know where he is today. So… there you have it, Lory. More than you likely bargained for and for that I apologize, but your answer in full as to why Jacks Wilde cannot help you.”

The wolf nodded solemnly, “That was an awful lot to take in, Mr. Wilde, and I get what you’re saying about being retired from it and all…”

“I suspect a ‘but’ comin’,” Goliath said.

“ _ But… _ from what all you jus’ told me… it sounds like there’s no other mammal in the  _ world _ that could find a missin’ heir to the Lionheart Crown, be there one to find at all,” the wolf said, “You were the closest on Simon King’s tail in the whole  _ city _ , weren’t you? Like you said, ‘hundreds’ claimed to see him -- which I’m  _ darn _ sure is up at a  _ million _ by now -- but who actually got his trail? As for Gévaudan, well…” she began to say but then shook her head, “No, I’m sorry, it ain’t right or fair to say that, so forget I even mentioned it.”

John loosed a single chuckle to the rescinded implication that if he  _ didn’t _ , such terrible things would happen as to shift the city or the  _ world _ for the worse. “Hearing it come from someone outside my circle of friends really does put it into perspective… maybe I  _ am _ too hard on myself…” he quietly commented, earning a gentle bat on the chest from Jackie. “I’ll tell you what, Lory, I’ll do Mack the honor of hearing what he has to say, if anything to know what it was he  _ found _ that would need a mammal who, by all historical records, doesn’t even  _ exist _ .”

Esther groaned in thought, “If I remember my class on world heraldry law, any edict passed by a departed ruler (i.e., King Richard) can only be overwritten by a crowned heir or, in the case of the Liondon Parliament, a majority vote. The Parliament  _ is _ comprised of the five Lionheart lines, but only four of them are Richard’s since his youngest cub never mated before death… at least, not that anyone knows about. The fifth line is from Prince John himself and even though he usurped the throne, his descendants weren’t held accountable after they… well… accepted what  _ he _ did and atoned for it. Feel free to draw parallels,” she then mentioned, “I suppose if the youngest of King Richard’s cubs didn’t officially agree to partake in the Parliament… they might still have claim to the crown, thus allowing them to circumvent the other lineages. I’ll admit, I’m rather excited to see what Mack got from Mr. Never, it must be something  _ monumental _ .”

* * *

Not too long ago, Nick stretched his spine in the starlit darkness away from the train platform.  _ Ow… it’s nothing like the time I mailed myself across the city but still, ow… _ he grumbled, twisting his torso about to get the kinks out of it before reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone,  _ I need to warn Judy that Magnus is coming… and I’ve got myself a message, have I? From Esther, no less, _ Nick noted but squinted an eye to rub at his temple and the sharp pain therein,  _ Hold on… my screen’s all wonky… _

The phone was given a light shake and smack but its distortion persisted, _‘Mr.’… ‘Never’?_ he attempted to read, _‘is’… ‘Lo-’… ‘Loxley’. Loxley… Foxy Loxley? But he died, I know he did,_ Nick doubted, _That doesn’t make any sense… and neither does this wacky stuff happening with my phone,_ he grumbled, for the headache was getting worse. _Wait… this isn’t new to me,_ Nick realized and examined the nearby tree, _This arboreal bystander couldn’t have ironroots, could it? We’re nowhere near the Knottedwood but that -- and I’m going to hate myself for saying this -- is the only thing that makes sense._

His eyes climbed the tree’s trunk, nose following a tangible absence of scent, as though an eraser streaked across a whiteboard. Perched in the boughs were two shiny-eyed figures in long coats who… didn’t seem to make any effort to conceal themselves.

“ _ Oops _ , he spotted us,” one said, notably male.

“Took long enough,” the other said, notably female.

They each sported a grin before vaulting from the tree to alight some several feet on either side of Nick as moonlight revealed the deep red of their furs, the sleek material of their garbs, and the glinting contraption around their eyes. Nick, despite his headache, pocketed his phone to casually rest a paw on his holstered stun-gun (which his finger unbuckled ever-so-quietly) while gesticulating with the other in as cordial a smile as he could provide, “Evening, cousins. Something of a  _ unique _ situation we find ourselves in, isn’t it?”

The mysterious tod straightened his jacket as he addressed the vixen from around Nick, “As sly as we figured.”

“Naturally, considering whom he’s  _ from _ ,” the mysterious vixen agreed as she folded her paws in front of her.

_ So, they’ve been following me for some time now, have they?  _ Nick speculated, “I must admit, I can usually spot a tail from a mile off but you’ve been on me for… I daresay ever since I came to Bunnyburrow. Credit where credit is due,” he said,  _ I’ll take out the tod first since he’s on my gun-arm, it should give me enough surprise to at least reload and stand-off with the vixen. _

That vixen giggled, “Well,  _ we’ve _ been following you since then but someone’s always kept an eye on you.”

“Creepy,” Nick remarked.

“Don’t get us wrong, you are an  _ exceptionally _ difficult fox to track…  _ Johnson _ ,” the tod said.

Nick’s ears pinned back but then he rolled his eyes in boredom, masking as best he could the constant ache in his skull and the surprise in his face,  _ ‘Johnson’… Magnus was talking about me _ , “That’s adorable, you gave me a codename.”

“Oh no, not  _ us _ ,” the tod corrected, “The  _ Watch _ did that, we simply overheard it.”

Nick’s tail swept at the grass behind him, “Which ‘Watch’?”

“ _ All _ of them,” the vixen said, “You’ve had the Watch looking over you ever since you struck the streets as a kit. You were  _ quite _ the mammal of interest, cousin, as we also figured out.”

_ And we’re done here _ , Nick decided, paw gripping around his stun-gun… however paused he was when both of the other foxes discreetly reached for some surely secreted weapon of their own,  _ They’re both ready for combat, I guess. _ Nick relaxed his paw and so did they. “I’ll admit, I’ve always been an interesting mammal but then it’s nothing out of the ordinary for an entire neighborhood to keep an eye on a nearby fox.”

“Your father asked them to,” the tod corrected, “because he was afraid that you’d get into some manner of trouble; just like he always did.” Green eyes narrowed in response. “It’s true. The Watch kept an eye on you even  _ before _ that and so did we -- not  _ us _ specifically, of course -- watching how you found  _ exactly _ where Pleasure Island would act next. It was  _ uncanny _ .”

Nick drew his stun-gun and leveled it on the tod in half-a-blink. “You just said the magic words, shifty, so let’s drop this charade and talk brass tacks here,” Nick warned, sliding a few steps to keep his ears and eyes trained on either of them in turn, “You’ve got the next two seconds to explain why I shouldn’t take you both down.”

The unknown tod raised both palms. “You stopped a lot of kidnappings from happening, Johnson, by bringing the Watch to young mammals targeted for abduction… and then escaping. Just like your mother. You did this independent of your parents, though, all the way up until you left home.”

“ _ That _ is completely insane,” Nick snarled, “You want to know what I did as a kit? I sold popsicles, candy, and toys; made connections for future business, kids who could get their own money or weren’t beholden to their parents. I was sure to find kids who -- like me -- spent most of their time outside the house…” he listed, feeling colder with each description, “Kids who… probably wouldn’t be noticed if they disappeared for no reason…”

The other tod shrugged at the obvious parallels.

“‘I’ve got eyes on John’s son’,” the vixen said, as though a distant echo behind Nick, and she continued, “‘John’s son spotted’, ‘Following John’s son’, ‘John’s son is in the wind’. ‘John’s son’ was heard by the keenest of ears and from it came ‘Johnson’. You helped a lot of families… and made some powerful enemies, even if they didn’t know who you were at the time aside from ‘Johnson, the Uncatchable Fox’.”

_ This is some brilliant psyche-out material, I should compliment them after cuffing them _ , Nick decided, sparing a glance over his shoulder at her, “I have quite a few enemies indeed, one I’m sure you’ll recognize, so how about I drop only  _ one _ of you so that you can tell your boss,  _ Magnus _ , that we’ve already got him dead to rights.”

“What, him?  _ No _ ,” the vixen denied, “ _ Never _ .”

“I guess you can say we’re from the ‘alpha-fox’,” the tod mentioned.

_ ‘Never’…? _ Nick reeled, his relaxed arms dipping the stun-gun… Movement triggered his reaction as a high whistle and a flash of light shot from the tod’s paw to strike the sidearm from the officer’s grip, falling into the grass instead of directing at either adversary as Nick intended it to. His head rang, the  _ world _ rang as the two mysterious foxes converged on him and with them, that burgeoning headache split his skull in  _ twain _ , just as the ironroot trees nearly did back in that grotto on Sunday.

“That was a mistake,” the vixen said, another distant echo before the night grew darker and the ground swelled to greet the falling fox.

In Nick’s last moments of consciousness, he considered the possibility of Esther’s text message, about how “Mr. Never was Foxy Loxley”.  _ Ridiculous _ , he thought, not doubting her but simply the information she provided. After all, Nick  _ knew _ that Foxy was dead. He saw his body; kaput, expired, sleeping the big sleep. Well… Nick didn’t  _ see _ it but he knew Foxy was dead because… because he  _ was _ ; a pile of ash in a box that Fuchsia probably kept on her mantle or in a cupboard. He died shortly after Honest John went up in a fireball,  _ also _ a pile of ash. Both of them.  _ Ash. _

“Honest John” Longfellow and Foxy Loxley, two tods Nick wanted to be his dad more than his  _ own _ dad; two tods who, ultimately, showed him why the world hated foxes. Nick remembered how Foxy took him under his wing as a teenager when he wanted nothing more to do with his parents, and then moved on to Honest John as an adult when Foxy was far too casual with him. Nick remembered Dad’s story about Foxy confronting him in the past, about having “his own foxes” and later cursing his name after being thrown into a sewer. Nick wondered if Foxy’s revenge was manipulating adolescent psychology to engorge a familial spat into a wedge between him and his parents. Nick wondered about the time he overheard Foxy warning Honest John about “Who the alpha-fox was”; remembered what a  _ ridiculous _ notion it was.

Nick then wondered what Mr. Never had to do with Magnus.

Nick hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aside from the gerbil pun, "Yolanda Gerbilski" is a name with no significance whatsoever and any reference to existing characters or personages is purely coincidental.
> 
> ‘Make up your blooming mind’ is a reference to a line from Bird Brain Mary, a pirate in Treasure Planet.
> 
> Francine Pennington is the elephant officer near the beginning of the movie. It's assumed she was "Trunkaby" but it turns out her name is "Pennington". Officer Johnson is one of the lions at the Precinct in the movie and it turns out his name is "Bob".
> 
> [Well, at least the train isn’t exploding this time] is a reference to when Nick & Judy jumped off an exploding train in the movie.
> 
> The symbolism here between "Steve Rabbers" (Steve Rogers) and "James Buchanan Barkes" (Bucky Barnes) as "Captain Warren" (Captain America) and "The Winter Wolf" (The Winter Soldier), respectively, is linked by the white star on Cap's shield and the red star on Bucky's shoulder; in this case, it's a white clover and a red clover.
> 
> [“‘Briar the Trier’ was scared-to-death, like in that jump rope song Nick told us about, remember?”] comes from Trustworthy, chapter 25.
> 
> [“Y’see, I wrote to them Tweedles when I was a kit…”] Gideon isn’t lying here, technically. He did write to the "Tweedle Bros." (Dean & Duncan Vandersnatch) when he was young but never heard back from them. It wasn't until adulthood (as told in recent chapters) what it was they were really doing. It was an original idea that the Vandersnatches used news reports to create a number of the Mr. Foxglove stories, as part of their "get the message out" attempts.
> 
> Podunk in Deerbrooke is the "carrot-choked" place that Nick mentions in the movie.
> 
> Jaguardo Boi Chá (the jaguar cub from the movie's intro that grew up to be an actuary) runs the Brambles Notary. His name is a play on "jaguar" and "Eduardo" and the jaguar journalist from the Brazilian version of the film, "Onçardo Boi Chá".
> 
> “King Richard” and “Prince John” are both references to "Robin Hood (1973)".
> 
> The “grotto on Sunday” that Nick is referring to happened back in Trustworthy, chapter 13.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such was a time when it was quite common for larger mammals to carry small mammals around in their pockets or on their shoulders; in fact, tailors and clothesmakers of the time would design integrated harnesses into coats for the ease and comfort of not only the large mammal who wore it but their small mammal traveler, as well. It goes without saying that such designs are societally volatile nowadays, permitted only in time-appropriate reenactments; there is an underground movement, however, to bring back ergonomic seats and tethers for coats and vests that retain a mammal's dignity, as an ultimate demonstration of solidarity between radical size categories. The integration of this movement is slow-coming, mainly due to liability purposes.

It would have hurt less if every hair on Nick’s head was replaced with hot needles (including the ones in his nose and ears). The same, sweet chorus of _“lee-la-dee,_ _lee-la-dee, lee-did-diddy-dee-doo…”_ repeated like a clock’s chimes but whatever comfort it afforded did little to diminish the dial tone drilling through his brain. The taste of pennies dominated his mouth when his eyes shot open, the darkness around him blurred only by shifting figures. _Where…_ Nick attempted to discern, paws flailing and grabbing for something to steady himself, head whipping to focus on anything he could. “Come out!” he demanded and rubbed his eyes again, _You’ve assaulted an officer; I have friends in high and low places!_ the fox managed to think but couldn’t utter, beyond incoherent muttering. He fumbled for the stun-gun that wasn’t in its holster; he tried to hold up his arms to guard himself but was grabbed from behind instead.

“Hey!” he barked and thrashed, tail striking at whoever locked his arm behind his back and  _ their _ arm across his chest, and even a leg around his own.

“Cool it, cousin, easy does it,” came the somewhat familiar voice of that mysterious tod.

“Open up; there we go…” came the almost recognizable voice of that mysterious vixen.

Nick clamped his jaws tight and growled.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be!” the tod declared.

_ Good! _ Nick thought and snarled, eyes and ears still hindered by that constant, head-splitting dial tone. And then he laughed when his belly was tickled, causing him to curl up in an uncomfortable guffaw, only to feel something sweet and hard land on his tongue.  _ Son-of-a-… that’s unfair; I call ‘foul’!  _ he complained, grimacing and gagging when he felt one paw hold his snout shut while the other loosely cupped his throat…  _ I can’t swallow it or spit it out…  _ Nick realized and attempted to flail again,  _ Wait one cotton-pickin’ minute, I know this taste… _

“Nicky, relax,” came a third, wholly unknown voice whose only characteristics were  _ older _ ,  _ male _ , and  _ in charge _ , “it’s just candy and should clear up the affliction.”

_ Like I haven’t heard that gem before,  _ Nick grunted,  _ Still, this does taste a lot like that honey Gideon used in the tea on Sunday… didn’t Ruth say it was Night Howler honey? And the pain is a bit more bearable now… Well, there’s only one set of foxes that would call this ‘the affliction’, isn’t there?  _ “Okay, let up,” he decided, visibly calmer and speaking out the corners of his mouth since his snout was still held shut.

The mysterious tod and vixen sprung away from Nick as he shrugged them off, regaining his composure in dribs and drabs until he could rub his forehead, still suckling on the hard candy. As it happened in the grotto, so did where he stood, the darkness giving way to defined shapes and figures as his night vision returned.  _ This candy is actually pretty good, now that I’m not fighting for my life, _ he realized.

“Doing better?” the older tod asked, his fur thicker and scruffier around the ears and cheeks, arms patiently crossed as he sat upon a root-bound boulder. The other two, younger foxes (whose scents easily pegged them as twins) were similarly perched on a low branch or upturned root in the middle of what Nick could best describe as “somewhere out in the woods”. He was, as they were, dressed in a long coat with some kind of flexible body armor beneath, and a pair of goggles that looked far more cumbersome than fashionable, but rather than worn they were each propped atop their respective heads. What was also painfully obvious was that all three had vibrant green eyes.

“Oh, simply  _ marvelous _ , I’ve just been snatched up for the second time this week and almost had my brain bleed out my nostrils  _ also _ for the second time this week but I must say, you surprised me by accomplishing both at the same time,” Nick snapped, securing both thumbs into his police utility belt rather testily, “Also, I’d like my gun and phone returned to me along with a  _ very _ good reason why I shouldn’t bring you lot in for obstructing an officer in the line of duty. You have until this candy runs out to bring me up to speed,” he then said, pointing at his mouth.

The vixen fidgeted. “ _ Technically _ , you just kind of…  _ fell _ over when we approached. That’s why we gave you the candy, it’s honey made from Shepherd’s Folly-”

“Night Howler,” the younger tod explained.

“I know what it is,” Nick snapped again and then turned to the older tod, “You. Let’s get a straight answer out of you but before that, shall I assume you’re all from the Knottedwood?” he then said, “Those ‘Savage Greens’ of yours are hard to miss.”

The older tod patiently blinked and pulled his paw out from his folded arms to gesture, “I’m guessing when you called them your ‘cousins’ you meant that in the generic ‘Hello, my fellow fox’ sort of way?” he said and grunted in thought, “Alright, let’s clear some air here. These are your blood cousins, Rebecca and Jericho, and I’m your Uncle Cory,” he then said with a wry smile.

Nick flicked his tail. “Cor _ bin _ ,” he corrected.

Both Rebecca and Jericho burst out in laughter as Uncle Cor _ bin _ frowned and hung his head, “You’re definitely Jacky’s son… he told you about me already, then?”

“In passing,” Nick dismissed with a wave of his paw, and then leaned back on an especially high, curvy root to cross his own arms, “I’d wager that  _ some _ one here slammed their tail in the door by  _ not _ introducing themselves  _ properly _ ,” he then said and casually examined his claws, “would’ve saved us a  _ lot _ of trouble.” Both his cousins stopped laughing to shrink back. “By the way, this candy -- delicious though it is --  _ is _ almost out so let’s wrap this up before I get miffed.”

“I  _ told _ you it was a mistake!” Rebecca scolded of her brother.

Corbin seemed speculative before approaching, pulling out both cell phone and police regulation stun-gun from his coat pockets, “These are yours; no damage,” he assured.

“A step in the right direction,” Nick accepted, likewise approaching to receive the items with a quick check of the sidearm,  _ A little scuffed but it should be fine, _ and then his phone with its persisting insanity, “And we’re still near some iron-roots,” he sighed, “Although I really didn’t need to look at my phone to know  _ that _ , did I?”

His uncle’s green eyes quirked at the phone and then turned on Jericho. “You; come here,” he said with a snap of his fingers.

“Why?” Jericho challenged, even if he did hop down from his tree branch.

“Because you still haven’t fixed your container, now get over here and lift your coat,” Corbin instructed.

Jericho’s eyes darted to Nick, “Like…  _ now _ ? In front of Nick?” he asked. When his uncle’s tail whisked threateningly, Jericho did, indeed, approach with his ears pinned back and about-faced, groaning under his breath as he reached to hoist the length of his coat, showing off his body armor in more detail, as well as the secreted arsenal of daggers strapped to it. A cylinder of some sort connected to a series of insulated wiring woven up the fabric on his back, and from that angle, it was visibly connected to the headgear.

_ Jeez, that looks amazing…  _ Nick gawked and as Corbin knelt down to fiddle with the unit (Jericho peeked bashfully over a shoulder at his cousin), the ringing died away even as the last of the candy melted in his mouth,  _ And my phone’s okay, for the most part, _ Nick wondered as he tucked it into a pocket, “That’s some fancy thingamajig you got there. What is it, some sort of scrambler? Battery? Wifi router?”

“There’s a bundle of ironroot in there, kept alive with soil from the Wood; without the proper containment its magnetic field leaks out, affecting electronics and -- in your case -- foxes who are especially sensitive to it. It lasts roughly three weeks at an absolute maximum, after that the affliction could easily lead to our deaths,” Corbin explained as he stood, and then bushwhacked his nephew’s haunches to let him know he was done while turning back towards Nick, “It took us  _ years _ to develop the means to survive for any appreciable amount of time outside the Wood. What we have on now are easily our most advanced devices.”

“ _ So…  _ those goggles of yours act like scuba gear?”

“Not a bad way of putting it,” Rebecca responded, pulling her legs up to fold them under her knees, “Any Knottedwood foxes that venture outside are afflicted, like a freshwater fish in saltwater. We simply can’t handle the planet’s magnetic field like other mammals can. Truth be told, it affects all our senses in the  _ weirdest _ ways.”

“Which is why we thought your father and aunt dead when they didn’t return,” Corbin continued, clearly nursing an old scar, “I’m sure Jacky told you that he was bitter at how your Aunt Guinevere and I were chosen to escort Goliath and his daughter instead of him. Goodness knows, he griped to everyone in the village for a whole  _ week _ before disappearing.”

“That sounds like Dad,” Nick commented as he hoisted himself onto the root to relax not only his limbs but his head as well, “He’s filled me in on the whole Scouts, the Knot, and the affliction, but for sake of argument, there was a legitimate reason he wasn’t chosen, though?”

Corbin bobbed his head. “Guinevere and I were being  _ trained _ to withstand life outside the Knot; we didn’t tell anyone on account of how foolhardy and dangerous it was but… for too long we’ve hidden inside that Wood, longing to leave, developing what limited technology we could to protect us beyond its roots. Jacky swiped a pair of our finest spectacles and just…  _ walked _ out,” Corbin explained first with incredulity and then with such a morbid weight to his tone, “Our  _ best _ Scouts -- the  _ very _ best, trained for the exact purpose of leaving the Knot -- could never venture farther than line of sight of the Wood before collapsing. It got to the point that even  _ trying _ was too dangerous.

“Jacky and Ruth were always especially sensitive so we figured they might not  _ ever _ be able to leave… and that maybe Goliath left them for dead since  _ he _ didn’t return, either… or worse, that something happened to his kit. In time… when some of our more sensitive kits found that they could venture out with only the barest protection, we discovered that they were following underground roots,” Corbin said excitedly, “they could sense where the ironroot trees were spreading. We were filled with new hope that our lost foxes were still alive.”

Nick raised a single finger, “Hold up. You’re saying ‘developed technology’, but  _ how _ ? You’re isolated from the rest of the world.”

“Not entirely,” Jericho answered, “There’s a delta where our water supply drains out into the ocean. It’s also filled with jagged rocks so it’s impossible to traverse except for ideal conditions -- tide, weather, what-have-you -- but it has a habit of collecting detritus from the ocean currents. It’s how we get a lot of our materials. And of course, what Grandpapa brought with him when he crash-landed in that delta.”

_ Grandpa Piberus… _ Nick thought, “Is he still alive?”

“He’s hanging in there,” Rebecca lamented, “Grandpapa stays in bed most days but he’s still sharp as a whip. He says he’s not going  _ anywhere _ until he settles his affairs with Uncle Jacky and Aunt Ruth.”

Nick couldn’t help but snort a snicker, “So  _ that’s  _ where Dad gets it from. By the way,” he then picked up, “If I’ve been watched ever since I was a kit, why has  _ no  _ one reached out to my family? I mean, c’mon, thirty years is a  _ long _ time to hold a grudge, isn’t it?”

Uncle Corbin stepped closer to grab his nephew’s shoulders. “We  _ only _ managed to get out to Preds’ Corner scant years after they left the Wood and each excursion was a test of our fortitude, staying for a few days, at best, not even half a week's time, since it took so long to get there. We found Ruth and watched as she walked around without  _ any _ protection and seemed… perfectly fine. Eventually… Jacky came back, met up with her and they got into a… a bit of a  _ spat _ .”

_ Oof… _ “That’s quite a time to run into them. I only found out about that myself and that is its own anecdote. Just know that they’ve made up and all’s happy-times again.”

He sighed with relief. “At least there’s that. In our next excursion, we discovered that… Ruth was with kit… and the kit could only be Goliath’s,” Corbin explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

The city-fox scoffed. “So that was that, huh? ‘Foxes mate for life’, so long and good riddance?”

“Wag that tongue harder, kit,” Corbin shot back with a jutting finger, “The village was torn on whether we should approach her or not… whether it was worth putting our Scouts at risk of the affliction and using our resources to maintain contact…” he then relaxed, “and then  _ she _ approached  _ us _ . Ruth came to the Wood looking for medicine to help Esther… and there was Gideon, a kit of the Knottedwood born  _ outside _ , healthy and strong. We worried if it were even possible! They couldn’t venture very far in so Papa went out to meet them. He decided for the rest of the village that we’d find a way to leave the Wood for  _ good _ , even if it took us a hundred years. Several strokes of genius (and… explosions) later, an especially crazy kit of  _ mine _ helped develop this headgear,” and tapped the goggles.

“The rest of us weren’t idle, though,” Jericho pitched in, “Do you know about those squirrels that tried to get into the Knottedwood, Nick?”

Nick’s ears perked. “I  _ do _ , the housing development that stopped on account of ‘witchcraft’.  _ Please _ tell me someone sabotaged their equipment?” he smirked, “Maybe show them what some  _ real _ ‘bloodwood witches’ were capable of.”

Both Rebecca and Jericho snickered. “ _ Some _ did,” she said, “but a lot of it  _ was  _ because of the Knot ruining their electronics. We also found out that us foxes of the Wood are indigenous, so they had no claim to the land.”

“ _ Really _ ?” the city-fox then grunted his surprise, “ _ That _ never got in the papers. How far back  _ do _ the Knottedwood foxes go?”

“Hundreds of years, actually, maybe  _ more _ ,” Jericho said, “They’ve been there before Grandpapa and even  _ those _ foxes weren’t the originals. You should come to the Knottedwood someday, Nick, we’ve been developing ways for outside foxes to come  _ in _ , too. As it turns out, the Shepherd’s Folly honey helps with the transition,” he explained, bringing out what looked like a wrapped piece of candy from his pocket.

Corbin pulled out one himself. “The bears and hares from the Honey Hills came by after the squirrels left, mentioning that they’d been following the movements of certain bees and tracked them back to the Wood,” he flicked the piece into the air and caught it before slipping it back into his pocket, “That’s when Charmagne -- your aunt and their mother -- started bartering with the stuff. It’s another way that we’ve been getting information and materials for our excursions. We asked them to keep quiet about us, though… we weren't ready to come out  _ quite  _ yet.”

“I understand; the world is a big scary place and foxes aren’t looked kindly upon,” Nick reasoned, “All the same, you made it to the city. How?”

“We took the train,” Corbin said simply, “Bought tickets and braced ourselves for the onslaught of electrical interference. Which brings me to a  _ very _ important question…”

“How did Dad manage it?” Nick wryly asked, arms crossed and mouth pinched in a smirk.

“There’s a betting pool back at the Wood,” Rebecca said as she joined the tods.

_ Ahh, family~ _ Nick adored, “Well, he rode the top of the train and took the full brunt of the city’s ‘aura of death’,” he explained to Jericho’s wince and Rebecca’s dropped jaw, “Fell five stories into a trash heap,” he continued, getting a  _ very _ pleasing look of incredulity from his uncle, “And then proceeded to fight three boars and a sow -- equipped and trained to capture foxes, mind you -- all while suffering that nasty affliction  _ and _ courting Mom at the same time.”

Rebecca took a seat onto another root while Jericho stared on dumbfounded.

“You made that up,” Corbin rebutted.

“Ask him yourself,” Nick smugly challenged, “But now that I have your attention and my head is  _ wonderfully _ clearer, I do have a few questions: Becky and Jerry over here claimed that  _ I _ was ‘Johnson’ -- as in the urban legend, uncatchable fox, Johnson. Surely _ that _ was made up?”

Corbin shook his head. “It’s true. I’m sure there are  _ other _ ‘Johnson’s out there but you were definitely the seed. I wasn’t one of the advance teams that made it to the city but I’ve read all the reports on that war zone-”

“‘ _ War zone _ ’?”

“Another reason why we didn’t --  _ couldn’t _ \-- intervene,” his uncle said, “The fragility of that city’s peace was  _ blatant _ ; shadow games between the Watch and Pleasure Island tugged at strings that spanned the entire territory. We couldn’t say for certain who was on which side until we spotted Jacky and his mate… or as he was then known, ‘John Wilde’.”

“It was like watching a battlefield through a keyhole,” Rebecca picked up, “Snippets of information a month apart… I’ve only heard some of it myself, before my time as it was, but imagine if we could have used a telephone back then…”

“That’s when the name ‘Johnson’ emerged,” Jericho said, “We figured it was code for ‘John Wilde’ but that wasn’t the case,  _ his _ location was known yet different from numerous Johnson reports. It took  _ ages _ to piece it all together but our slyest Scouts found out that  _ he  _ was  _ you _ .”

_ I really am ‘Johnson’, aren’t I…?  _ Nick wondered, brow furrowed and paws folded under his nose with discombobulated concern,  _ Does Magnus actually know that and he uses it as a code name or is he still in the dark? Well, one thing is for certain: Dad is gonna  _ flip _ when he finds out~ _

“Jericho tells me that you weren’t  _ actually _ going after Pleasure Island as a kit, Nicky,” Corbin added, “I might dismiss such a notion as a bold-faced lie since no mammal would just…  _ find _ the most troublesome parts of a society and wedge their nose into the very core of it…” he then sighed, “Except I know whose kit you are.”

_ What do you expect from the son of Mr. & Mrs. Foxglove? _ Nick shrugged endearingly, “By the way, who’s this ‘alpha-fox’ I heard tell of?”  _ If not the thought dead Foxy Loxley, that is. _

Corbin’s mouth pinched in a grimace as he glanced upwards at the nighttime canopy to simmer. “If I hear  _ anyone _ calling their Grandpapa the ‘alpha-fox’ again, they’ll find themselves in a  _ world _ of trouble when we get back home,” Uncle Corbin warned through his teeth and in a rather generic sort of way. Either of the younger foxes whipped their attention off in completely  _ other _ directions.

“Aunt Vanessa started it…” Rebecca muttered.

“One or two more questions before I hit the road,” Nick keyed in.

“Of course,” Corbin begrudged.

“Were there any signs of  _ rabbits _ around those ‘Johnson reports’? Possibly…  _ deodorized _ rabbits?”

The question struck the three Knottedwood foxes as they exchanged furtive glances. “Has anyone told you how  _ unnervingly _ like your father you are?” Corbin replied with a quirk of his brow and a smirk on his lips, “That  _ were _ signs of rabbits, and like your cousins here, their scents were wiped. There’s a certain trail of absence that comes with deodorizing; of course, there are other ways to tell a mammal’s species. In fact… we heard tell there was a rabbit involved after your Ranger Scouts meeting, Nicky.”

A dense silence filled the woods. “And you don’t have any other info on that?” he asked of his uncle.

“I sincerely wish we  _ did _ .”

Nick grumbled under his breath and then recalled aloud, “You’re familiar with the name ‘Magnus’.  _ How _ familiar?”

Rebecca spoke up as she stood, “We suspect he might have had something to do with  _ numerous _ events in the past… events to do with Pleasure Island but the best we can figure is that there’s a… a Magnus-shaped hole with every investigation.”

“Good, good. Follow-up: does the name ‘Mr. Never’ ring a bell?”

Jericho hummed and pulled a notebook from his coat, “He is… something from ‘Underland’. No one’s ever made it down there, though, but we don’t think he’s involved with anything.”

_ They might not know who Foxy Loxley is, then. Alright, I need to scamper real soon. According to the time on my phone, I wasn’t out for as long as I feared and if Magnus and Nivins really did leave the train station, obeying speed limits and all that, they can’t have been in Preds’ Corner very long and I should have time to warn Judy, assuming she’s still helping the Knotash evacuation _ , Nick decided, “Super, listen, this impromptu family reunion has been great and all but this fashionable uniform isn’t a costume so I should get back to all that fancy, official stuff I was doing. Last question: where are we?”

“Not far outside of Preds’ Corner. The clinic should be…” Corbin began and craned his neck to look around, and then pointed through the trees, “ _ That _ way, maybe a twenty-minute sprint.”

“ _ ‘Twenty-minute sprint’ _ , he says  _ so _ casually,” Nick groaned, “Jiminy Cricket, you guys are athletic…”

“It’s a dangerous world out there for us foxes,” Jericho quipped.

“I guess you’ll all be heading out, then?”

“ _ You _ said that was your ‘last question’,” Rebecca teased, “but yes, we’ll be heading back to the Knot.”

“Last  _ official _ question, Becky,” Nick snarked, “If you can stay one more night, I’d like to ask a  _ huge  _ favor.”

“I guess we can stay another night, if for family,” Corbin abided.

“Funny you should mention that. Please introduce your niece and nephew here to their aunt and uncle,” Nick said, hopping off from his root and twisting his torso to loosen up his spine, “ _ That _ is my favor.”

Corbin frowned. “Introduce them…  _ tonight _ ? To Jacky and Ruth?”

“Yep.”

Rebecca tugged on his sleeve, “ _ Can _ we, Uncle Cory?  _ Please _ ?”

Jericho joined in on the other sleeve, “Just a quick stop. You want to hear what happened to Uncle Jacky too,  _ right _ ?”

“Just for a cup of tea,” Nick then suggested, grinning. His uncle canted his head and sighed, staring dully at him.

“Alright,” Corbin ceded, arms crossed, “ _ One _ cup of tea,” and then smirked at Nick.

“I think we made some progress tonight; that calls for a group hug,” the city-fox prompted, making a gathering gesture with his paws. The other three were varying degrees of hesitant (with Corbin being “somewhat” while the twins were “not at all”) but they joined into a single embrace. When they broke, Nick handed his uncle a candy wrapper.

“Oh,” Corbin said, accepting it and putting it into his pocket, “Where did you find-?” he  _ began _ to ask and then noticed that Nick was casually nursing a hard candy as he pulled out his phone, “From my pocket, of course. You  _ could _ have asked.”

“There’s no fun in that,” Nick said and then wiggled his fingers in a wave, “I have work to do and you have music to face. Toodles~”

Corbin softly glared while his niece and nephew giggled behind him, “I should swat your father for making you.”

“I’m sure he’d enjoy your attempts to do so,” Nick responded as he finished tapping out a text message to Judy and then turned on a heel as he pocketed his phone, “Moonlight’s a-wastin'.” As Nick disappeared into the dark woods, he could hear the vanishing conversation of his extended family through the boughs and trunks.

“That was fun to watch,” Jericho said.

“I can’t wait to see you banter with Uncle Jacky,” Rebecca added.

Uncle Corbin merely grumbled as they whisked off into the trees.

* * *

The street cleaners merrily hummed along the more developed roads of Preds’ Corner, a quaint wedge of country life that three decades prior could  _ hardly  _ be called “civilization”. The inhabitant families in the modern era were a far cry from the sparse denizens dispersed across a wide, flat space or crammed against an encumbering swathe of dense forest, stretching several miles before terminating at a sea cliff. In many respects, the Preds’ Corner of yesteryear was a time capsule to life before normalized indoor plumbing and electricity. Few were the contributing factors to its sudden surge in population and development than the influence of world-famous Purrisian chef, Remy Gusteau (whose  Ratatouille restaurants speak for themselves, as well as the “Anyone Can Cook” book and identically-named scholarship for culinary advancement; one noteworthy winner of the scholarship was Gideon Grey, to kick-off his education as a pastry chef). The Pred-Scare received notice around the world and Mr. Gusteau, who already had a restaurant in the city of Zootopia, sought to study and thusly dedicate a new eatery to the more rustic, homestyle cooking of the local predators, “like Ma used to make” (which the residents still consider “fancier foods”). The Lucius family of bats were happy to host him; the Kumamori family of bears were less than thrilled to find their attic was home to a three-generation family of bats (and a world-famous chef) but it was all smoothed out in the end.

Zoologists the world over have uniformly but independently arrived at a yet disproved hypothesis that any collection and development of civilized mammals will inevitably -- some argue “unpreventably” --  _ also _ house a microcosmic society of rodents or other such small mammals, depending on the size of the mammals doing the development. One case of note, “ _ Hendronier v. Ganzt _ ” was about a village of raccoons living in the crawl space of a house being renovated by a family of bison; it was a horrendous legal battle since the raccoons, technically, held claim to the house but the bison held the deed to the land; both were notarized and official. Zootopia was one of the few cities in all the world (even in its own nation) to establish a system of laws designed to handle the “inevitable” conflict of property ownership within other properties and it is that system which allows districts such as Little Rodentia, Horseshire, and Knotash to operate with autonomy inside the city’s territory (so long as the city’s laws are adhered to first and foremost). Such areas, in effect, act as their own kind of time capsule for the cultures which shaped them.

“…And that’s why both Battles of Beruna are believed to be not only a  _ thousand _ years apart but largely territorial disputes,” Bo Briar, the history buff, explained as he walked down the newly cleaned sidewalk of Preds’ Corner, waving at the occasional befuddled but endearing look of a resident predator, newly returned from the community’s cruise to check up on things, “Historical scholars will likely  _ never _ come to a conclusion as to whether the first Battle even  _ happened _ -”

“What with the gaps in recorded history, and all,” Judy Hopps, Woolipedia gorger, inputted while likewise waving at the occasional befuddlement as she sat atop Bo’s broad shoulders and steered him using his ears. The boy bunny hardly felt her weight or even the bag of comic books slung across his back as he held her ankles securely and kept up a brisk, steady pace. In the year-plus-some-months that they’d been together, Judy took it upon herself to hone Bo’s farmyard muscle and the brawling he learned from the hares at Honey Hills using her own training at the ZPD academy (and what regimens she could find on the Internet).

It was always a dream of Bo’s to be a bunny just like Captain Warren but both the National Guard and Armed Services sequestered rabbits into squadrons specializing in communication rather than combat. Instead, he sufficed to join the Burrow Watch and maybe, just  _ maybe _ , become a champion of the  Mammalian Martial Arts tourney and show what bunnies were made of. His training for such a lofty endeavor hit a plateau until the Sunday prior when he and Nick just so happened to stumble on famed (and retired) professional trainer Phil Octaves in Preds’ Corner, for which the boy bunny was quite psyched about (especially when they passed Phil’s bar that very night). “The  _ eternal _ quandary of scholars everywhere,” Bo lamented and then continued, “Even so, Beruna set  _ crucial _ precedence on wartime conduct for not only the armies but the  _ commanders _ , as well. For example…”

Judy enjoyed when Bo talked about history or the Hexward Tenets because it was the clearest and surest she’d ever heard his voice be, rather like a professor to his students. She knew if the Lapis Scholarship wasn’t so narrow on its requirements, he would have pursued his passion and likely become a teacher rather than a nutritionist. Regardless, Bo’s schooling helped him develop a way for rabbits with  _ muscular hyperatrophy _ \-- like himself -- to digest and build muscle without the use of temporary fixes like steroids (for his allergy to them made their use an impossibility); if only it were ingestible. The unfortunate ( _ repulsive _ ) texture and taste of his concoction made it as unpalatable as any meat product, thus nixing even the slightest help it could provide. It was also fun to listen to him talk because his body became much more relaxed and allowed Judy to better “steer” him while sitting on his shoulders, by use of his ears and pressing her ankles on his chest. Rather like operating heavy machinery. It was an act they developed to entertain the younger Hoppses and gave them a fun sense of synchronicity.

“Here we are,” Judy said as they approached the front door of the semi-lit  Brambles Notary & Records and then made a faint screeching noise while tilting back on his ears, as though braking in a car.

“This place  _ still _ gives me the creeps,” Bo admitted, shivering if for only an instant, “I hope it doesn’t hurt Jaguardo’s business when it’s found out that the Gravedigger was in there…”

“A clever cat like him will find a way around it, no doubt,” she postulated and then remarked of the exceptionally fancy car sitting out front, “Mr. McTwisp must have brought the entire  _ office _ over from Knotash.”

The broad, brown shoulders shrugged after Bo’s “rider” dismounted as he offhandedly and jokingly mentioned, “‘City-bunnies’; that’s all I gotta say on the matter.”

“Fair point,” she added, “Even so, this  _ should  _ just be a statement, so what  _ else _ …?”

“…Juju?”

The uncomfortable freeze of looming terror shot from the fluff of her tail to the tip of her ears as they directed towards the building (to which Bo’s own shorter ears likewise pointed, if with less conviction as they searched about for what might have startled her). “ _ Bad _ ,” Judy promptly decided and grabbed Bo’s wrist to yank him away from the front door… only for its smaller cut-out to open and bathe them both in fluorescent light, holding them in place with a cordial groan of discovery.

“Miss Hopps!” greeted a bunny who was surely one of McTwisp’s assistants, if her dress suit and trimmed, spackled fur were indications of  _ any _ kind, along with a smile both bright and sincere as she welcomed them with a gesture, “And Mr. Briar? Please do come in, you’re right on time.”

Judy’s shocked expression and posture shifted to a polite smile and stance (and Bo’s followed soon after) as she pinched both sides of her skirt for single, simple curtsey. “Well, ‘punctuality is the politeness of gentlerabbits and ladies alike’, you know,” she quipped, and while she  _ was _ the first through the door, Bo kept close at her side with a succinct sweep of his ears.

“Is something the matter?” the assistant inquired after she closed the door, coming around to stand before them with paws calmly folded, the welcoming smile dropped to a placid concern (although her own ears swiveled about in response to Bo’s). Aside from the clinic, the general store, and the restaurant, the notary office remained one of the most up-to-date buildings in Preds’ Corner… at least the reception area did. One of the most recent standardizations was the tri-level counter, along with the more modern predator-species customizations, like at the clinic. Such customizations were modified for the convenience of rabbits, though, so all was brightly lit for the temporary office set up to receive Ms. Hopps (and Mr. Briar).

“No, not at all,” Judy fibbed as she clapped Bo’s shoulder to let  _ him _ know that nothing was the matter, “It’s just been a long day.”

The assistant smiled again and nodded, “Thank you for coming out so late, Ms. Hopps, I understand what a  _ hassle _ this must be…”

A soft, friendly moan dismissed the worry. “Not a ‘hassle’ at  _ all _ , really. Where is Mr. McTwisp?” Judy asked, even though her ears already pointed towards one of the meeting rooms beyond the reception area, for paper-signing and date-stamping that would take longer than the few minutes provided by any over-the-counter business (mortgages, and the like). It was that very room to which they were both ushered. Clearly, McTwisp’s team was present not simply to handle whatever it was that involved Judy but to wrap up the bookkeeping for all business affairs Knotash had in Preds’ Corner, for the other sharply-suited rabbits were quietly busy with paperwork on their temporary desks.

“Right this way.”

Judy held Bo’s paw, squeezing it to either assure or be assured… and he squeezed right back. She pressed in a bit closer to his side but not  _ too _ close, since he still had his Burrow Watch utility belt on and the walkie-talkie  _ was _ rather bulky (it was designed to broadcast from just about anywhere in Bunnyburrow, after all), not to mention the regulation civilian stun-gun that Bo kept  _ largely  _ because he  _ had _ to, terrible shot that he was. Before the single door into the meeting room was opened, he looked to Judy with concern and inquiry… she nodded and held his paw a bit tighter as they walked in. Bo soon discovered why Judy felt not only apprehensive but downright  _ indignant _ .

Mr. Nivins McTwisp sat at one end of the short (and low) table, a feature easily adjusted to the sizes of those using it, with his tablet standing erect on its folding keyboard along with some assorted paperwork spread out before him. His demeanor was -- as either Judy and Bo often recognized, what little they saw of him -- of the utmost professional cordiality and the pinnacle of “bunny business”. McTwisp was an old rabbit with plenty of life still in him as he handled the affairs of all of Knotash on a macroscopic level as a sort of arbiter, and the sort of individual that one just  _ felt _ they knew of without actually meeting him. It was not him that caught Bo’s breath in his throat or curled Judy’s toes as she prevented any foot-thumping, though.

It was Magnus, who stood so casually away from the table, an ear turned towards the door at the entering rabbits and smiling oh,  _ so  _ comfortably. He had no obsidian glint or bristled fur or even a squared shoulder; not a  _ single _ fear or worry, that much was crystal clear. Magnus ended his call as politely and swiftly as he could before slipping his phone into a jacket pocket to smile still, if sadly at the younger bunnies present. “ _ Thank _ you for coming, Judy. And Bo! Goodness, it  _ has _ been a while, hasn’t it? Could we get another chair for Mr. Briar?” he requested of the assistant and approached the front of the table with its single seating arrangement, “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you  _ both _ to be here.”

“Uncle Magnus, hello,” Judy forced out, forcing also to not grind her teeth at the thought that the rabbit in front of her was even  _ tangentially  _ associated with her family. When she, Bo, Lanny, and Gideon were helping the Burrow Watch and the returned predators evacuate the Knotash rabbits before the deadline, Gideon had approached her with… disturbing news. According to him (and he wouldn’t reveal how he knew, only that his sources were  _ very _ good), Magnus had a history of hurting mammals; of connections with  _ Pleasure Island _ . She, of course, knew about the deepest evil of Underland’s darkest bowels. In any other circumstance, she would have demanded proof and evidence and all the things that came with a just and fair mind. But she trusted Gideon, trusted that he wouldn’t tell her something like that unless it was -- to the best of his knowledge --  _ true _ .

“Mr. Hopps, good evening,” Bo joined in, his voice much less strained than hers since  _ his _ knowledge of Pleasure Island was peripheral at best, “I’ll be acting as Judy’s emotional support,” he then plainly stated, “along with all responsibilities and associations that entail.”

“Anything you have to say to me can be said to him,” Judy declared, looking directly at Magnus, “I have  _ nothing _ to hide or hold back.”

Magnus sucked his teeth and knitted his brow. “Well… neither do  _ I _ , that’s why I wanted to come out with all this, get it into the open,” he then resolved, “ _ Quietly _ , of course, that’s why we’re in this room.”

“Very well; the record shall state as such,” McTwisp calmly responded, tapping at his keyboard, “Good evening Judy Hopps, Bo Briar. Please, have a seat,” he instructed as his assistant brought in the second chair and then closed the door’s smaller cut-out on her departure.

“Before this whole…  _ thing _ begins,” Magnus said as he half-sat on the corner of the table nearest them, “I want to apologize for what Grav did on Sunday, Bo, there’s  _ no _ excuse for it. I’m glad to see you’re up and about, though!”

Bo pursed his lips and sighed through his nose. “It’s in the past,” he tersely replied as he pulled out Judy’s seat for her and then took his own (setting the bag of comic books nearby).

Magnus nodded and rubbed his paws a bit before returning to sit near McTwisp. “Alright, I’m ready,” he assured himself.

“Ms. Hopps,” Nivins began, “ _ Judy _ , we are gathered here tonight in extraordinary circumstances. This weekend has been a  _ tremendous _ series of unprecedented events for not only the Tri-Burrow Reunion but rabbits everywhere. As you know, the Lapises and the Hoppses have  _ always _ been excellent warren mates, ever since Knotash’s first established families… ever since  _ Bunnyburrow’s _ , for that matter. It is dis _ heart _ ening when two families of such renown…  _ go at _ each other like this… especially when one calls on the other to do so  _ to their own _ . I know Otto and Reginald have had their…  _ disagreements _ in the past but we, as rabbits, live by our solidarity… by the bonds we forge. A strong peace kept not only these families but rabbits all over the Tri-Burrows  _ together _ .

“As it stands,” he continued, his eyes leaving the stoic Judy and Bo to consult some paperwork, “the Felix deemed it necessary to bring in Ms. Esther Grey from  Bagh & Little to assemble a case against Magnus Hopps which I and my team combed through  _ minutely _ . And while it is  _ excellently _ drafted, Judy, there’s no-”

“What!” she shouted, slamming the table as she rocketed from her chair to jab at a startled Magnus, “You can’t just dismiss  _ everything  _ we have on him! There’s a paper trail of his activities that reach the  _ moon _ but you’re telling me  _ none _ of it sticks?”

The coffee-spotted rabbit cleared his throat significantly. The albino rabbit set down the paper he picked up to instead smooth it out as he turned towards his associate to speak discreetly, “I didn’t want to believe it but she reacted  _ exactly _ how you said she would.”

“Overlook it, for now,” Magnus beseeched behind his paw, “She’s young and influenced, is all, I  _ know _ she can handle this. Just… give her another shot, okay? For me?”

McTwisp sighed and nodded, “You’ve always been magnanimous, some say even  _ too _ much but so be it,” and as he sat up, he gestured to her chair after picking up another set of papers stapled together, “Please take your seat, Ms. Hopps, and I would appreciate no further outbursts.”

Judy experienced simultaneous sensations of fiery hot and icy cold, quivering from the tip of her (then) curling finger as she practically pushed herself back into the chair. Both paws folded on the table as she breathed to steady herself. Bo’s foot slid under the table to touch their toes together and so hers rested atop his. “My apologies,” Judy then said, once more a paragon of etiquette, “Please, continue.”

“Thank you,” McTwisp abided and nodded, indeed appreciative of her more…  _ demure _ disposition, and so himself visibly more relaxed, “As I was about to explain, there’s no  _ doubt _ that it is excellently drafted but there are  _ processes _ for such situations, protections erected for the exact purpose of safeguarding Knotash denizens from any erroneous legal action. If there is reason to believe that any such rabbit  _ isn’t _ ‘above board’, as they say, then we will proceed accordingly and ensure that reparations are sufficiently met. We’ve dealt with bad apples before and have cooperated  _ wholly _ with the city’s justice system. It’s what allows us to operate as well and as peacefully as we do.”

“I think I speak for everybunny here when I say that I don’t want to empty the warrens with this,” Magnus said, to which Nivins nodded in agreement, “I always do what’s best for Knotash, for all bunnies, so to have these sort of…  _ allegations _ leveled on me is… it’s  _ hurtful _ . And from my own niece, even, whom I welcomed into my home and provided  _ everything _ I could-!”

“Magnus,” McTwisp calmly interrupted with a raised paw and a glance.

“Sorry,” he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose before beseeching her, “I know I wasn’t able to see you during the day, Judy, but we would have seen each other that evening-”

“I was  _ abducted! _ ”

“Judy,” McTwisp again interrupted, less calmly.

“You were a  _ guest _ ,” Magnus argued, aghast, “If I ‘abducted’ you, would I have given you full run of the house? You swam in the pool, played tennis, walked the gardens, led a  _ class _ through the art gallery, and even gave a private tour of the artifact room! You wanted for  _ naught _ but yet you thought yourself a  _ prisoner _ ?”

“In a  _ gilded cage _ ,” Bo rebutted and earned for his input a concurring point of the finger from Judy as she addressed the older rabbits in the room, “You  _ knew _ she wouldn’t do anything that put her in a bad light in front of every other rabbits in that Manor, just like you’re doing  _ now _ .”

“Bo,” McTwisp further attempted with increased agitation.

Magnus groaned and buried his face into both palms to shake his head, ears flopping about. “‘Gilded cage’?” he repeated and rubbed his eyes, “I should have listened to Clea when she warned me about you, Judy, I should have listened but I didn’t and now not only is my son  _ hospitalized _ because of you-”

“Hey!”

“But now you’re doing everything you can to  _ ruin _ me… and for  _ what _ ?”

“You tried to kill a lot of innocent mammals with that Night Howler drug of yours!” she declared, voice echoing around the room, “Not to mention the  _ terror _ that those poor bunnies live in under your roof. They’re all prisoners, just as much as I or Graham was!”

Magnus slumped back in his chair, no longer worry-free or even fretting, but… profoundly disappointed, “And there it is…” he said to Nivins.

“Another nail on the head, Magnus,” McTwisp admitted, the disappointment in his voice all the heavier, his pink eyes not leaving the two younger rabbits, “I’ll not even humor that latter accusation with a response, Judy, but  _ midnicampum holitcithias _ extract was made an illegal substance after the events of the Pred-Scare and this entire business with its pollen only  _ worsened  _ its status,” he explained and pulled up a sheet, “The whipped cream from the sheriff’s office here in Bunnyburrow showed  _ no _ signs of the toxin from yesterday’s test. While Magnus  _ did _ arrive at the sheriff’s office on Sunday night to pay Grav’s bail, there was absolutely  _ no _ indication that the evidence locker was broken into and even if it  _ were _ , there is nothing to tie its production to Magnus, only to the late Tad Wooler and his cousin Dent. That said,” the albino rabbit continued, “a proper investigation will be conducted by the ZPD but before another outburst is had, rest assured that this process is for your  _ own sake _ , Judy.”

Judy gawked. “My ‘own sake’?” she disbelieved.

“ _ Yes _ ,” he continued, “I shall reiterate that this case is an  _ excellent _ draft but Ms. Grey is a defense attorney, not a prosecutor, so something of this magnitude will need to go up to the DA, first and foremost. Without the correct processes, this case and your reputation would likely be discarded outright.”

Magnus grunted disapprovingly, “Now wait a minute, Nivins, let’s not do anything  _ drastic _ ,” he said, “There’s no need to drag Judy through the mud on this, she’s still my niece after all and a lot of rabbits in the city look up to her.”

Judy wondered if she could prevent her fur from bristling. “Then what’s all  _ this _ about?” she demanded, gesturing to the papers and the room and just…  _ everything _ .

“Because  _ my _ reputation is important, too,” Magnus beseeched once more, “ _ Midnicampum holicithias _ is no light matter, as I’m sure you know, so something like  _ this _ ,” he said and gestured to the case, “could ruin  _ me _ , it could ruin my whole family for  _ generations _ . I have a lot of other families riding on me, as well, bunnies working at my plant that rely on the Hopps name. Look,” he continued and stood up to walk around the table, despite McTwisp’s behest, and knelt near Judy with his elbow on the table, “I don’t want  _ anything _ from you, Judy. You can keep the dress, it’s yours,” he then sighed tremendously, “and I’m sure… I’m sure you didn’t  _ mean _ for Grav to wreck his car… it was wrong of me to accuse you of that, and I’m sorry… So, here’s my olive branch.  _ Please _ , just… drop the charges? Let’s just… both walk away from this. Okay?”

Violet eyes stared in some degree of surprise, disbelief, and bemusement. “I don’t know what your game is, Magnus, but it’s  _ not _ going to work,” Judy decided with all due conviction and then turned to the albino rabbit as her uncle lamented quite audibly and then rose to his feet, glancing only momentarily as he returned to his seat, “I’m sorry if it seems uncouth or unbecoming but I can _ not _ back down from this and I will  _ not _ drop the charges. You’re right about one thing,” she then continued while pointing at the coffee-spotted rabbit, “I  _ am _ looked up to by lots of rabbits and my integrity is as good if not  _ better _ than yours. And that’s not  _ me _ saying it,” she explained, “ask the Felix!”

A weary silence engulfed all present rabbits. “Your integrity  _ is _ extraordinary, Judy, however…” McTwisp began and pulled from his briefcase a single slip of paper to present it across the table. Judy accepted it and promptly drained all the blood from her face and ears.

Not an ounce of hesitation was shown by Bo -- for in all things was Judy open to him, just like he was to her -- but as he leaned over to also glance at the piece of paper, she flinched and folded the paper to hide it from him. The suddenness of the repulsion shocked them both as their eyes met and though they were mere inches apart, the gap suddenly felt like miles as his brow furrowed and face fell with dismay, as though shunned and cast out. The brown rabbit backed off to deflate into his seat, gaze averting to anywhere but her, ashamed that he might be a nuisance.

Her chair softly scraped as she scooted it closer to Bo’s, her foot then touching on his to relaxing the curling of his toes. Above the table, she leaned in and presented the piece of paper.

“The writing is definitely  _ yours _ ,” McTwisp explained after a pause, “and according to that note, you owe ‘one get-out-of-jail-free card’ to a Mr. Duke Weaselton, and it is to my understanding that he boasts an  _ actual _ criminal record that ‘reaches the moon’. Perhaps you, the first rabbit police officer in recorded history, would like to explain yourself?”

Whether it was Bo gripping her forearm or his toes beneath her foot, or even that he remained at her side after reading that note, Judy felt the color return to both face and ears. She sat up, dark-tipped ears springing to full attention as Magnus’s phone rang with an awkward groan and grimace to follow.

“Terribly sorry,” he pleaded and discreetly checked the screen, grunted, and then requested, “I  _ really _ should take this…”

“Perhaps a short recess?” Bo immediately suggested.

McTwisp looked between the two of them -- giving Magnus a momentary, withering look -- and then nodded, “A four-minute recess shall clear our heads, I think,” McTwisp agreed, permitting Magnus to answer his still ringing phone with a wave of his paw before addressing his own phone as though it were an intercom, “Please bring in some water.”

Judy’s eyes never left her uncle as he stood and turned, phone to his ear, voice too low to make out any words. After a bottle of refreshment was offered to each rabbit at the table, she pulled Bo in closer and whispered behind a raised paw in the same lower-than-audible tone she reserved for private conversation amongst her fellow bunnies (and Nick)… and then “whispered” a bit louder, “…And so long as we’re at the Bramble’s Notary, there’s not much else we can do except stay put and weather the storm, no matter how much it might  _ sting _ ,” and winked, pointing at herself.

“And will it  _ sting _ , here at the Bramble’s Notary?” Bo asked after his eyebrows arched.

“It will  _ sting _ , here at the Bramble’s Notary,” Judy confirmed.

* * *

Silver trickled through the wind-tickled leaves, the forest peacefully whistling a lullaby with the bugs in its bark and foliage. Clusters of stars buzzed with each wing beat of the fireflies disappearing behind trunks or rocks as two, larger bodies wedged themselves through the accommodating tangle of backwater wilderness.

“Wow, this place is  _ amazing _ ,” Lanny awed as he slipped through what gaps were sizeable enough for him to do so (or compliant enough under his strength), “I thought the Rainforest District was something but there’s always the hiss of a sprinkler or a lingering whiff of exhaust. But  _ this _ …”

Gideon ducked under an arch of twisted root before clambering up onto another one until he was about chest height to the lion and walking along a thick-roped mesh with his arms and tail spread out. “I been coming in here ever since I was kit; could always go through without any trouble,” he then sniffed the air, “Y’know, there was that rainstorm a few weeks back, so one of the ponds must’ve filled up.”

“‘One of the ponds’?”

“Yeah!” the fox answered, “There are grottos all through this forest, big-’n’-small, so they fill up into pools and ponds when we get lots of rain; cool, fresh water, perfect for a soak. I’d go for a dip whenever I saw one… with my shirt on, o’course, jus’ in case anyone showed up. Not many others could find ‘em like me, though, so I was pretty safe in that regard. Some real good-for-the-soul stuff,” he then seemed a bit brighter, “Maybe from here-on-out, I won’t bother with a shirt no more.”

Lanny looked at the fox’s back. The fact that Gideon was in Pred Therapy stayed on the forefront of his mind like a gash on the forehead (even his ‘Dawson’ was dumbstruck). He didn’t know anyone that went through it;  _ other  _ lions knew, those at the docks knew of such mammals. And then Lanny  _ did _ know someone that went through it and he still wasn’t sure how to process the information. “So,  _ umm… _ You go through here all the time, then?”

A shrug preceded his answer before he twirled about and plopped himself down to gaze at the fireflies. “I  _ used  _ to before my bakery opened up, then it’s jus’ a morning walk. Always felt welcomed here, like there was no one to… ya’know,  _ judge _ me,” Gideon said, rubbing his knees a bit, “I could jus’ let myself be  _ me _ , let my mind wander… revisit dreams, is what it felt like,” he then chuckled, “Always did have an overactive imagination. Started ever since I was… gosh, three, I guess? That was my first one, when I met a big ol’ lion in the woods just off our field.”

The current, young lion blinked as he, too, sat down. “‘Met’? Don’t you mean ‘saw’?”

“Well, I was  _ three _ ,” Gideon reminded, “who knows what I was thinkin’. Essy came and found me, though, and swears up-&-down that no kind of lion was anywhere in the area.”

“You  _ do _ understand that I, as a medical professional, harbor concern about these visions you're describing, right?”

The fox smirked, “ _ Uh oh _ , I think  _ some _ one’s jealous that I’m thinkin’ about other lions.”

Lanny also smirked and then flicked a finger against Gideon’s temple to make him grunt in mild discomfort, “Shush, you. After hearing about Night Howler’s prolific presence out here in the country and what Madge told us about similar substances elsewhere in the world, I can’t help but worry about what  _ else _ is lurking in these woods. I’ve seen plenty of mammals crash from Pollen, you know; it’s not a pretty sight.”

With a rubbing of his noggin and a groaning of disapproval, Gideon blinked and shook his head to recalibrate himself. “I think you done knocked a screw loose, Lan, because tha’s some kind of them ‘visions’ you mentioned,” he said and pointed at a figure only a few feet away, “Ain’t that Nick done up all fancy in his cop suit? I mean, it  _ can’t _ be, he’s s’posed to be in the city.”

Crimson eyes followed the crimson finger to a crimson canine, indeed, “done up all fancy” in a ZPD uniform. “Whoa, I see him, too…” he said and reached out to lightly grab the impatient frown, the entirety of his paw engulfing Nick’s head, “He’s so  _ real _ …” The instant his mitt lightly fluffed the older tod’s face, both Lanny and Gideon flew back (the larger of the two striking his head against a particularly sturdy branch).

“ _ What _ are you  _ doing _ out here?” Nick demanded, arms crossed and eyebrows knitted, tail puffed quite angrily, “Do you realize that I heard you guys from a  _ half-mile _ off? I  _ doubt _ I’m exaggerating!” When either attempted to respond, Nick barked over them, “I expected better from both of you! What part of ‘you probably have assassins out for your head’ did you fail to comprehend?

“I’m  _ especially _ disappointed in  _ you _ ,” Nick then accused of his shrinking cousin, “Weren’t you  _ just _ on the darknet? Weren’t you  _ just _ shot at by the Gravedigger? Didn’t I  _ just _ escape being kidnapped? Didn’t  _ Judy _ just escape being kidnapped? What would’ve happened if I had to face  _ your _ parents and  _ my _ parents and  _ your _ sister (who is also my mate) with the news that  _ you _ got yourself killed within spitting distance of home?

“And I’m  _ especially _ disappointed in  _ you _ , too!” Nick then accused of the frozen lion, “You’d think a lifetime of dodging the Lookers would instill enough caution in you to not go bumbling about in a dark, unknown forest scant hours after the worst assassin in modern history just painted a target on your back! I can’t even  _ imagine _ the volcanic conniption-fit that Madge would have  _ at me _ if anything happened to you.”

A cricket made its presence known in the silence to follow.

“Stretch…” Gideon began apologetically, “It’s hard to take you seriously right now, you have twigs in your fur, and I’m pretty sure one of them has bird-doo on it.”

“How’d it feel to be the adult of a situation?” Lanny asked after a calming exhale,  _ carefully _ plucking a particularly disgusting stick to toss it.

“Why do you think I’m so upset right now?” Nick grumbled as he brushed foliage from his pelt, “All of my points are still valid, so… both of you march your tails back to the clinic… and you’re grounded. No… video games or… I don’t know,  _ hijinks _ for a week.”

“Sheesh,  _ dad _ ,” the lion groaned.

“Seriously, though, you’re both idiots for wandering around like this. Why did you even come out here?”

“I wanted to introduce Lanny to everyone, and then I remembered how nice these woods are at night and I guess I got carried away with ‘em,” Gideon confessed as he guided the other two out to a clearing and back the way they came, “But why’re  _ you _ out here, huh? I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

Nick groaned and huffed as he made some comment under his breath about the frequency of his lengthy excursions through the country and the resulting grooming of his fur, “Long story short, I dropped off Doug with some other officers of the ZPD and when I found out that Knotash was bringing in heavy equipment to Preds’ Corner, I opted to investigate. Turns out Magnus is out here.” Both Gideon and Lanny choked on their shock. “My sentiments  _ exactly; _ and  _ exactly _ why you both should be somewhere  _ safe _ . I don’t know why he’s out here but before I could figure it out, I ran into some of our cousins.”

“Wait… you don’t mean from the Knottedwood, d’you?” Gideon disbelieved.

“I most certainly  _ do _ . They’ve been keeping an eye on things from afar but couldn’t interact because they have to stay close to ironroots or else get that nasty affliction Dad described. And they can’t use smartphones which is the  _ real  _ tragedy. Don’t worry, I directed them to your parents’ house so they should be available to chat when we get back,” he assured, “They brought me back here after I collapsed so to alleviate the affliction  _ I _ just had. I cleared a few things up with them before getting back to my policing duties and then ran into you two chuckleheads.”

“All the way from the train station to here?” Lanny asked.

“I suspect because it’s close to the Grey house and the clinic,” Nick answered, “They couldn’t bring me back to the Knottedwood so either of those places would be the safest to leave me in case I didn’t recover.” When the lion softly groaned with acceptance, Nick continued, “I need to get a hold of Judy but she hasn’t answered my cautionary text about Magnus. Where is she at?”

The three exited the forest on approach of the dimly-lit clinic teasing through the trees, and when they did Lanny’s head lifted and craned about. “Wait… where’s my truck?” he demanded rhetorically and then took a few fevered steps closer to the emptiness outside the back door of the clinic. “It was right  _ there _ ,” he insisted, “but now it’s  _ gone! _ Someone took my truck!”

“Alright, Lanny, relax, let’s have a look at this,” Officer Wilde said as he quick-stepped closer to examine the ground, “Right around here?”

“Yeah, thereabouts,” Gideon confirmed as he reached up and comforted the lion with a pat on the thigh.

The taller fox hummed as he took out his phone and crouched down, taking pictures. “No signs of upturned gravel around the tire impressions… if you’ve still got your keys then whoever took it picked the locks on the door and likely put it into neutral to roll it…  _ that _ way,” he directed with a finger as his eyes swept the ground, “No doubt to keep it quiet before hotwiring it and driving off.”

Lanny’s mitts rubbed over his face and through his mane, “What else could go wrong…” he groaned and then checked his pockets, “Yeah, I still have my keys,” he began, and then clapped his other pockets with increasing concern, both paws finding his wallet and keys but not “My phone… where… Did I drop it…?” and then craned his neck over a shoulder to address the woods.

“I don’t remember you ever pulling it out…” Gideon considered, “No, wait… you got that text when we was attachin’ the camper shell on your truck-”

“The one from my roommate in the city,” Lanny remembered with a snap of his fingers, “That’s  _ right _ , I read it and then put the phone down… and then we attached the shell; so the phone was in the bed, thus stolen along with my  _ truck _ ,” he realized with ever-inflating dread until it was much too much handle and knelt down to pound his forehead into the dirt.

“Is the GPS on?” Nick casually asked while typing out a text message.

Lanny wasn’t quick to answer, “It…  _ is… _ ”

“Then we can track it,” the taller fox assured and sent off his digital missive, “ _ Technically _ speaking, I’m outside my jurisdiction and  _ this _ specific crime  _ should _ be handled by the sheriff’s office. That said,” he went on, “I can still ask my buddy Finnick to track the GPS on your phone by giving him your phone number. All we need to do now is find ourselves local law enforcement and we’ll be hunky-dory.”

“Like Gabe Catmull,” Gideon suggested, “I think I heard he’s come back to the Corner, to welcome his fam’ly from the cruise.”

Nick groaned high. “I think Gabe has a few…  _ things _ to work through right now.”

The maned head rose in a gasp, “Bo’s a deputy, we can tell  _ him _ !”

“And he’s with Judy!” Gideon added, “They’s at the Notary meetin’ with that Nivins McTwisp fella.”

Nick’s skeleton about leapt out of his pelt, only  _ just _ biting back a yelp. “No! Nivins is a turncoat, he’s on Magnus’s side and if Judy and Bo are going to meet McTwisp, then they’re going into a trap! Bangs,” Nick then said, “you go tell Madge and keep safe. Freight, you’re with me.”

“Why can’t  _ I _ come?” Gideon demanded.

“Because  _ you _ can’t throw a car through a brick wall,” Nick retorted, gesturing to the then standing lion and his towering physique, “Listen, Psychopath Sr. is  _ here _ , in Preds’ Corner which makes  _ everything _ about this place dangerous. We can easily assume that he’s got ears and guns around every corner. I need  _ you _ to bring Madge up to speed on the situation while me and Lanny barrel headlong into certain danger.”

“Didn’t you  _ just _ chastise us for doing that?” Lanny argued.

“There are lots of places you could get dropped on and tranq’d out in the woods. Here on the street, Mr. Alpha Lion, you have the distinct advantage of being large, loud, and  _ very _ scary. Bunnies are less likely to even  _ look _ at you if there’re fewer places to hide. Alright?” Nick punctuated, “Time is of the essence and you’re a lot faster than I am at distance.”

Lanny huffed. “Alright, let’s do this,” he decided, grabbing a suddenly flailing Nick around the waist and tucking him under an arm before pointing Gideon to the clinic, “Madge should be in either her office or the break room.”

“Alright,” the farm-fox agreed, gulping back his stutter, and as he turned towards the door he called over his shoulder, “You both better come back after this, and bring our bunnies with you.”

Nick saluted from his less-than-becoming position of being carried like a package but his and Lanny’s respective tails whisked off as the larger, tawnier predator knelt down and broke into a run.

“Hold tight, Carrots, cavalry’s coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [“lee-la-dee, lee-la-dee, lee-did-diddy-dee-doo…”] was first introduced as a special knock that Nick shared with his parents in the earlier chapters of Trustworthy and was referenced by Esther, in chapter 10, as a lullaby Ruth sang to her and Gideon to help with their fox-flu headaches. It was used again in chapter 13, when Nick was flung head-long into a grotto and suffered from what is now known as “the affliction” caused by ironroots on foxes who are sensitive to them; it was in that scene which Nick sang the lullaby to himself to quell the agony.
> 
> The “gilded cage” is a reference that Bo and Nick had back in Brave, chapter 17, as a method which Magnus utilized to keep Judy in check during her abduction, effectively forcing her to act in a way befitting of a rabbit in good standing while constantly observed by admirers seeing her as a good role model. The freedom to roam about and all the activities which Magnus mentions come from Brave, chapter 23.
> 
> Zoologists are the parallel to anthropologists in this world.
> 
> “Remy Gusteau” references a portmanteau of Remy and Auguste Gusteau from the movie Ratatouille, as is the name of the restaurant and the book, “Anyone Can Cook”.
> 
> "The Battle of Beruna" references "The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian".
> 
> Judy and Bo’s act with her riding on his shoulders is mentioned in Brave, chapter 6, while the steering aspect is demonstrated with Nick in Brave, chapter 17.
> 
> Phil Octaves (from Trustworthy, chapter 12) is a goat and a reference to Philoctetes (or “Phil”) from Disney’s “Hercules”; as in the movie, he trains “heroes” for the MMA (Mammalian Martial Arts) but was considered a “cursed” trainer due to all of his rookies making it to the finals but encountering unfortunate circumstances that prevented them from fighting. Bo’s dream to fight in the MMA comes from Trustworthy, chapter 6.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The exciting climax of Loyal... of many things! This isn't the end of Neverwere Moments, though, we'll wrap up with one more chapter and then get started on the next and final installment, Helpful! That said, enjoy!]

_ “…You dare speak to me of ‘madness’?” he growled, the fire whipping around him like a visible wind to churn the air in a dizzying mirage of colors yet unnamed as he then bellowed, “By my claw and fang, you will know what ‘madness’ is!” The fox, in all his blaze and vim, lunged as fierce and swift as a lightning bolt, the very air and ground igniting with his fury. Tolozar grew to titanic proportions, the crimson pelt alight with sparks and smoke as a smoldering paw slammed against Sir Norton’s stalwart shield, knocking him from his feet to pin him beneath a paw even larger than he was then, claws digging into the ground on either side of his head. “You were a fool to face me alone, knight, and you will pay for your hubris.” _

_ Sir Norton’s lungs were knocked of their breath and filled with choking ash, the intense heat searing the fur of his face and ears, soaking even into the very metal of his armor as though he were in an oven. “You’re wrong, Tolozar,” he coughed, straining with each word and gasp as it took all his strength to not only keep the shield braced but to reach for what he brought with him, “Even with your eyes and nose to the aether you could not see nor smell my power. It is with the other rabbits, my kith-&-kin from whom I came and it is for them I fight. They are with me, even now!” _

_ The great fox’s teeth bared and eyes narrowed. “Petty delusions,” he scoffed, jaw widening so putrid breath and slimy tongue welcomed the noble rabbit in, claws digging through the ground beneath to tighten his clutches, “Die and be a thorn in my paw no longer…” _

_ “Funny you should mention that,” Sir Norton said and as he shifted beneath the shield to gain enough slack in his arm, he yanked the Midnight Thorn from his pouch and held it aloft as though a dagger to drive it between the fox’s fingers. _

_ Tolozar howled with shock and pain, reeling back and flailing about. The Thorn’s effects were already evident by the hastened smothering of the fire up his arm, claws and paw turning a cold, lifeless black before it crumbled away. Just as the Apothecary’s Journal had described, it was the one thing able to defeat the vulpine sorcerer for good… _

Clea Hopps looked up from her narration and closed the novel around her finger to fold it in her lap, covered as it was in yoga pants of a vibrant burgundy with a frumpy, pumpkiny sweater that looked comfortable enough to crawl up into. “I fear I’m boring you, Sugar Beet,” she apologized, scooting the chair in which she sat even closer to the hospital bed to brush a knuckle along the edge of Graham’s coffee-spotted ear, the only part of his head not wrapped in bandage, “Perhaps you’ve finally outgrown ‘The Rabbits of Justilled’.” One of Knotash’s many stories, about a warren of rabbits who, as seven knights of the gentlefolk of Justilled, laid their lives on the line to protect the other rabbits… and more often than not, that price was paid for the greater good of everybunny else.

“Norton was always your favorite,” she then recalled, letting her finger slip from the page it held to examine the cover, the knightly rabbit Sir Norton raising his shield and the Midnight Thorn aloft to face off against the sorcerer ablaze, the dire-fox Tolozar, “It was deemed ‘too scary’ by some of our fellow families but you… you  _ always _ wanted to hear about the final clash with Tolozar. It  _ is _ quite the noble end for a rabbit hero, isn’t it? It was not his fortune in finding the Thorn or even the Journal which led to his victory but his bravery in putting the warren’s wellbeing above his own. You didn’t like the  _ ending _ too much, though, you even re-wrote it, didn’t you?”

Graham’s uncovered eye blinked, the dark purple iris surrounded still by red rupture, staring into the space over his bed at the assortment of pulleys which kept his limbs suspended. A lethargic arch of his finger reached on the keyboard propped up under his paw to provide its solitary, programmed affirmation of  **Yes, please** but was otherwise unresponsive. Its text-reader and notifying chime were both turned off due to how they annoyed the butterscotch rabbit.

A yawn was blocked by Clea’s paw as she excused herself, “Goodness, I certainly  _ am _ boring, aren’t I?” she tittered and wiped the corner of her eye with a knuckle, “Can hardly stay awake.” She then looked at her paw and started, tapping high on her cheek and rubbing the tips of her fingers together with dismay, “Oh  _ no _ …” Clea groaned, the off-white fur-dye residue dropping to the hospital room floor to reveal the albino pallor and scarring bruise beneath. Her purse was hoisted atop the book in her lap and as she sifted for the mirror and spare container always kept at hand… despaired to find that it was depleted, “Well, I guess we’ll  _ both _ have to suffer through it, won’t we?” she wryly said.

Graham’s eye blinked languidly again as the silence stretched until it was almost torturous, broken only by the EKG metronome marking off each heartbeat, the muted drips of his saline, anti-inflammatory, catheter, pain-relief, and goodness knows all else being pumped into him or hooked up to him in some fashion. His finger flicked,  **Yes, please** .

“Would you… like another peel of carrot?” she then offered, gesturing to the partially shaved root vegetable and the tool used to acquire the barest sliver of it, “It  _ is _ a miracle that your jaw is still operable, even with the damage to your throat.” Graham’s middle finger tapped at a single button with  _ its _ pre-programmed denial,  **No, thank you** . Clea frowned, “Grav…” she then pleaded, leaning on the hospital bed railing, “ _ Please _ , look at me?”

The eye blinked again but as it opened, it  _ was  _ turned to her.

“This is  _ my  _ fault, I see that now… Everything is spiraling out of control and  _ I’m _ to blame…” Clea confessed, paws clenching around the protective guard, “I could have  _ prevented _ this catastrophe;  _ should _ have…”

**No, thank you** , Graham tapped again.

Her chin trembled as the maternal rabbit reached out to touch the cast-shelled torso, “My brave boy… I swore to you that I’d give you a life of purpose and meaning despite your curse, Grav, I made that vow before you were even born and I  _ will  _ hold to it.” Clea’s ears raised towards the door.

“Knock  _ knock _ ,” a familiar voice in familiar singsong said, along with the sound of knuckles upon the door and a familiar pair of long, black ears poking in.

Clea tittered and sat up, “Who’s  _ there _ ?” she responded.

“Ozzy~” Felix Oswald Lapis said, his clean charcoal black suit and (loosened) bright yellow tie stepping into view while quickly closing the door behind him (and thus, a minor clamor of other rabbits just outside, piquing Clea’s attention more so). His was a snowy-white face framed in a black fur that was not as dark as his wardrobe’s, giving it a much lighter tint by comparison.

“‘Ozzy’  _ who _ ?”

“ _ Ozzy _ , Ah say,  _ Ozzy _ ya’ might be in need of some  _ powerful _ cheerin’ up!” Oswald said in a  _ saturated _ farm-bunny accent and a hearty swing of his arm, coming around the bed to lean over and kiss his sister’s cheek before speaking in his normal voice, if addressing both rabbits present, “How’re we doing, Grav, Patty?”

Cleo _ pat _ ra had just presented her cheek to her brother before sitting back, poised to assure that “everything was fine” except he turned his head and reflexively spat the makeup which caught on his lips (as politely as he could, of course). To this, she raised a paw to cover the exposed spot in shame, “We’ve been better…”

The black rabbit wiped his mouth with a swift handkerchief and as he tucked it back into his pocket. Upon pulling his paw back into the open, he produced a container of the highest quality fur-dye (touch-up brush included), “Here, it’s your favorite color,” he offered, smiling at his sister’s brighter eyes.

“Oh,  _ Ozzy _ , you didn’t need to,” she playfully rebuked but graciously accepted it all the same if only to hold it in her lap, “Thank you, though, for this  _ and _ for visiting. What brings you out so late, if you don’t mind my asking?”

A friendly chuckle preceded his response, “Cannot a rabbit dote upon his sister and visit his nephew in the hospital at  _ any _ time he so pleases?” the Felix joked, “This wing  _ was _ built from a substantial donation, after all.”

Clea sighed her deflation as she fiddled with the makeup container, “ _ Yes _ , it’s rather hard to miss  _ her _ statue coming in, isn’t it?”

A flinch flung Oswald’s ears about as he cleared his throat and adjusted his cuffs, “Patty, that’s  _ not _ what-”

“No no, don’t mind  _ me _ ,” she dismissed, looking down at her mirror and examining the exposed albino fur just beneath her eye, “ _ I _ ’m not cursed, only a  _ carrier _ ; no need to make a  _ fuss  _ about it.” The fantasy adventure novel earlier read from was then placed on the bedside table as she stood, purse and makeup container in paw, “You’re absolutely right, Ozzy, I  _ should _ freshen up, considering how long I’ve been sitting here,” and then touched his shoulder on her way to the restroom, “Tap-in and all that, maybe  _ you _ can get more of a conversation out of him than  _ I _ did.” And though hospital restroom doors were designed to prevent slamming, it somehow felt like she managed it anyway.

Oswald cleared his throat again as he slipped into the chair to scoot it closer. He braved a smile and attempted conversation, “I’m sorry you had to see that, Patty’s always been jealous of your late Aunt Mary Ann, rest her soul, never could see her  _ own _ accomplishments, multitudinous and great though they are…” He then gestured to the book with an appreciative groan, “Sir Norton versus Tolozar; your favorite of the ‘Justilled’ series, as I recall.”

Graham’s index finger raised in what could  _ probably _ be interpreted as a shrug since it was paired with a slight arch of his eyebrow. His reddened eye returned to staring at the traction pulleys above his bed.

An exceptionally long ear turned towards the restroom and the running water beyond, so Oswald spoke a bit softer, “She’ll be in there a while,” he reported and dragged the chair closer still, “If you’re up for it, I have a few questions; answer them as you like. First: do you prefer ‘Graham’ over ‘Grav’?” he quietly asked, “Judy seems to think so but I wanted to get it from  _ you _ .”

The eye darted back to Oswald, locking into place.  **Yes, please** , read the pre-programmed response from the button under his index finger.

A single, minuscule nod responded. He spoke lower, “Laverne’s carcanet, ‘Tears for a Sunset’… are you willing to swear before the House of Blessings as to its authenticity?”

A response was not immediate except for the subtle increase of his heart rate from the EKG monitor and a contemplative caress of the keyboard.  **Yes, please** came again but Graham’s face also did an odd contortion beneath the bindings such that a grin was  _ almost _ recognizable through the gaps.

Oswald breathed to steady himself, glancing first at the novel of Sir Norton as he pulled his coat open a little wider to lean out the corner of a book whose binding was the pitchest black, “Would you, perhaps, prefer to discuss some more…  _ mature _ literature?”

Graham’s eye quaked with intensity as it spotted the mariner’s journal so well known to him. The smile faded until it was little more than a haughty smirk. His eyelid drooped and he seemed to cough or chuckle as all the fingers of his paw then curled and flexed, knuckles cracking within them before they raked over the touchpad at his fingertips to activate the full keyboard.  **I think I am due a question or two myself, Uncle Ozzy, and likewise, feel free to answer any as you deem appropriate. Fair game?**

Startled eyes blinked and long ears pinned back but Oswald Lapis was the Felix and did not so easily spook. He nodded swiftly, “Go ahead.”

**Have you spoken with Judy’s vixen friend?**

“Yes, Esther Grey provided me legal counsel on how to best deal with your father, as you no doubt suspected she _ would _ ,” the older rabbit promptly answered, “She’s who gave me the book.”

His follow-up statement clearly surprised the butterscotch rabbit.  **Interesting. Did she read it?**

A shiver visibly traveled up Oswald’s spine. “To my knowledge, you and she are the only mammals alive who’ve read this book in its entirety. Judy and I skimmed only a few pages.”

**Judy must read it. Make sure she does. Very important.**

Oswald grimaced his obstinacy.

Graham’s fingers trembled as they typed.  **Please.**

He sighed and nodded, “Alright, but you  _ know _ I can’t get Judy to  _ do _ anything she doesn’t want. If I mentioned it was requested from  _ you _ , then maybe. No guarantees, though.”

**Very important that she does. One more question?**

“Of course.”

**What is black and white and red all over?**

Languid eyes blinked as Oswald sat back in the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and a patient arch of both eyebrows. He shrugged, “Alright, I’ll bite. Traditionally, it’s ‘a newspaper’, black-&-white print that’s  _ ‘read’  _ all over. Word play’s fun like that. If you’d rather something a bit more lighthearted then I could say… a blushing skunk or a zebra that spilled their fruit punch? My favorite is ‘Me after a spaghetti dinner with the family’.”

**Not wrong but I came up with another answer: the truth.**

Oswald sat back a bit further for that one, cupping his chin to rub it as he mulled it over. “Okay, I can see where you’re coming from. ‘Black and white’ could be moral polarity or starkly opposing viewpoints; the ‘red’ could be blood spilt to find it, whether through violence or a lifetime of hard work (i.e., ‘sweat, blood, and tears’ and all that).” He grunted under his breath and nodded his head, “I’ll admit, Graham, that had some depth to it. Now I’m curious as to what you mean by it?”

**Time’s up. Show that book to no one else except Judy** , Graham typed before promptly reverting the keyboard back to binary response buttons and settling in his bed. No signs shown that  _ anything _ was amiss, apart from momentary labored breathing and heightened beeping from his monitors which died down soon enough.

Within a second-and-a-half, the water in the restroom stopped and out came Clea in as grandiose a manner as was afforded to someone in yoga pants and a lettuce-green v-neck (her sweater was folded over an arm), refreshed and dyed in a subdued tone that closely resembled sunshine or daffodils. “Goodness  _ me _ , what a fresh face can do for a girl,” she modestly boasted on approach, “It’s almost a shame to have applied it in the dead of the night but I could  _ hardly _ have resisted such a treat, now could I? You  _ do _ know me too well, Ozzy,” Clea teased with a batting of his shoulder, “I hope I didn’t leave my two boys waiting for long?”

“Oh  _ no _ , not in the slightest,” Oswald assured as one leg folded over the other while flicking a wrist in gesture between himself and Graham, “We were just catching up with some ‘boy talk’, as they say. Well… more that  _ I _ talked and he tapped his responses,” and then chuckled when Graham thusly responded with a  **Yes, please** . “Here, I kept your seat warm-” he began to say but sat back down when a gentle paw touched his shoulder.

“Actually, I  _ should _ head off. It is almost midnight and I fear I’ve kept my dear Grav awake and bored most of the evening. If that nurse finds out I’m still here after she told me to get some rest over an hour ago, I’ll  _ surely  _ get an earful,” Clea explained.

To this, Oswald nodded with a slight waggle of his ears. “It’s been a long day for us all. How about I walk you out, at least?”

“ _ Very _ kind of you but I wouldn’t want to impose any more than I already have. In fact, how about I give your entourage a bit of a  _ run-around _ ?” she poised with a batting of her eyelashes, “Should provide enough distraction for a quieter escape in a few minutes.”

A soft moan and his palm to his chest expressed his appreciation. “ _ Would _ you?”

“ _ Any _ thing for my dearest, biggest brother,” Clea cooed and leaned down to kiss his cheek before gathering up Sir Norton and Tolozar and the rest of the effects she had scattered about to store it all in her purse, sling it over her shoulder, and proceeded to strut out of the room (the clamor picking up again as the door opened only to be muted as it closed).

* * *

_ ‘One get-out-of-jail-free card’, but that’s not the whole story _ , Judy thought, reading the addendums and crossed-out conditions on that cocktail napkin which McTwisp (or more likely,  _ Magnus _ ) “found” and scanned and presented as a blemish on her integrity; her handwriting was unmistakable.  _ Weaselton wanted a pass, wanted me under his thumb but I didn’t bend. I didn’t even need to give him this since he was in witness protection, a necessary precaution with Doug in the wind this past year; he revealed their drop-off points, after all, eventually leading the ZPD to so many hidden Night Howler labs. I wanted to uphold the integrity of police officers everywhere, but more importantly, Duke’s life was threatened on my account and I couldn’t let that stand, whether I was going back onto the force or not. _

_ I gave him ‘one misdemeanor’ that I was willing to look the other way on; one moment of leniency. Not a crime. Not a felony. One… mistake forgiven, should I be the one to catch him doing it, _ she recalled, looking over their photocopied, sauce-stained accord,  _ What did Magnus do to get this from you, Duke? Were you coerced? Bribed? Did you give this up freely? Are you still alive…? _

The weight of that decision to bring Duke Weaselton in to Mr. Big for information on whom he sold those Night Howlers to weighed on Judy for months after the Pred-Scare, as if the very moon pushed her into the ground. Time was of the essence back then… and Nick knew  _ exactly _ who they needed to find… and knew  _ exactly _ how to get the information out of him… He was still a shifty fox back then, still a silver-tongued hustler and it was plain as day that he wanted to do everything in his power to help Judy…

_ “We’re not going to kill him or even hurt him, just ruffle his feathers a bit,”  _ Nick had said, _ “and if anything gets too dicey we’ll step in as the ‘good cops’. Couldn’t be simpler.” _

But it wasn’t simple. The grief wasn’t simple. The abject terror she felt from Duke wasn’t simple. The nights spent calling Nick while he was at the academy to be comforted and assured on the wrong she did “for the greater good” weren’t simple. Being unable to face Bo wasn’t simple. Judy got through it, though, as she did in all things, and managed to mend a bridge with Duke by allowing him ‘one-get-out-of-jail-free-card’. A token, nothing more.

Until it was thrown back in her face.

“I’m sorry I never told you, Bo…I wasn’t sure if you’d understand…” Judy whispered to him, huddled as close to each other as they could get while still sitting at the table. Magnus focused on his phone. Nivins typed on his tablet. Water bottles were provided for all.

“We can talk about it later,” Bo assured and then flicked his eyes towards Magnus, “There are bigger things to worry about right now. What’s the plan?”

“‘Plan’?”

“Yeah, how are we going to turn this around?”

“I don’t…” Judy grunted and then tapped the proof of her duplicity, “Nivins isn’t going to believe a  _ word _ I say and without the Felix here and now, I have  _ no _ credibility. You’ve seen how those two act, Magnus has him wrapped around his little finger.”

Bo’s toes brushed hers beneath the table. “C’mon, Juju, you’re cleverer than this! We might’ve been out- _ bunnied  _ but that doesn’t mean we’ve been out- _ foxed _ . You just need to prove to Nivins that Magnus isn’t as upstanding as he makes himself out to be, right?”

Purple eyes glistened as she bit her lip in thought, toes clenching around Bo’s, “You’re right… I’ve been trying to get top-bun on Magnus this entire time but he’s playing the system like a  _ fiddle _ ,” she then clenched her face, “Why didn’t I see it sooner! He wouldn’t even be  _ out _ here unless everything was set up in his favor, I already knew that, but he must be acting on his best behavior right now,” she then hummed in thought, “If Nick were here, he’d say that Magnus was putting on one  _ doozy _ of a show, but he can’t keep it up forever. I just need a way to  _ bait _ him into revealing who he  _ really _ is…”

“You’ve got a plan, then?”

“I’ve got about…  _ twelve _ percent of a plan.”

“Well, it’s more than eleven,” he reasoned.

“Okay…” she pondered, “I need you to wax philosophy with Nivins, keep him on about the Tenets. One of the biggest is hospitality,  _ especially _ to a visiting relative.”

“Right!” Bo concurred, “If Nivins found out that Magnus not only didn’t  _ greet _ you but avoided you in his own home, that’d cast a shadow on his credibility. How are we going to prove it, though?”

“We  _ won’t _ , that was just an example,” Judy resolved, grinning, “We have to show that he sees  _ all _ the Tenets as nothing more than a means to an end. A representative from the House of Blessings would  _ never _ stand for that. I’ll need to figure out which one tweaks him the worst,” she explained and then “whispered” a bit louder, “…And so long as we’re at the Bramble’s Notary, there’s not much else we can do except stay put and weather the storm, no matter how much it might  _ sting _ ,” and winked, pointing at herself.

“And will it  _ sting _ , here at the Bramble’s Notary?” Bo asked after his eyebrows arched.

“It will  _ sting _ , even at the Bramble’s Notary,” Judy confirmed,  _ And now all I need is the right kind of chum for that shark… _ she pondered, ear flicking as her phone softly chimed with a text message,  _ Please be Nick, please be Nick, please be Nick… Yes, it’s Nick! _ she quietly cheered and brought it up on the screen,  _ Okie-dokie, lucky fox, let’s see what kind of timely words you’ve got for me… _

**Magnus in Preds’ Corner**

**I’m Johnson**

_ Thanks, Nick, super helpful there. Just exactly the thing I needed to know _ , she sighed,  _ But who or what is ‘Johnson’ supposed to be… like, Officer Bob Johnson? What does he have to do with Magnus? Nick can’t be joking around about something like this, he knows better than that… he was at the train station, though… That must have been where he saw Magnus. ‘Johnson’ could be anything! I need more information… Dawson! _ No response came.  _ …Dawson? I guess the Night Howler finally left my system… _

“Judy?” McTwisp asked, “Are you alright, you seem  _ dazed _ ? Do be sure to have a drink of water.”

She shook her head, first to center her thoughts and then to politely answer his inquiry (after a sip of water), “Oh no, I’m  _ fine _ , I just… got a really  _ big _ message from my dear friend…  _ Johnson _ ,” Judy inflected and as she did, looked over to the sudden flick of Magnus’s ear, pointed at her. Such a reflex could only lead to him pivoting his head to spare a sidelong glance (no matter how well he hid his true self, he  _ was _ still a bunny)… and when he did, she grinned and arched her eyebrows with as much subtly and significance as was in her to broadcast.

How long and arduous did that single  _ tock _ of the clock seem, so  _ low _ and  _ slow _ did its pendulum swing. Graham’s eyes… or as he was was once known,  _ Grav _ … turned dark as it did appear that his enmity bled through, unfit to reside within some masking vessel. It wanted  _ out _ . It wanted  _ renown _ . It…  _ paled _ in comparison to the broiling vitriol of its sire, Magnus. “I’ll call you back,” he calmly, coolly… coldly said before a thumb flicked off the phone and then grinned upon return to the table, “Are we ready to continue?”

_ Good news, he took the bait. Bad news, he took the bait,  _ Judy worried, studying that rabbit across the way she once thought of as her “uncle”,  _ And what is that sound…? _

“I believe so,” McTwisp decided and gathered up some of his paperwork, “Now then, Judy…” The representative from the House of Blessings spoke but his words turned to an airy monotone, droning about some business or other. He put forth a cordial acceptance, there was no denying  _ that _ , but as it was with many of his profession and demeanor it all seemed pillowy platitudes.

Judy did not respond immediately to McTwisp… or really much at all as she continued to study that rabbit across the way she once thought of as her “uncle”. She paid the platitudes with platitudes, though. It seemed only proper. And proper was what she needed to be.  _ That sound… have I heard it before? It’s like… what, what could it be? _ she wondered, ears straining to hear around the burgeoning conversation of the three male rabbits.

“On the contrary, Mr. McTwisp, you’ll find that idealistic intentions in the face of unfortunate circumstances are  _ braided _ into the Tenets…” Bo chimed in. And “chime” he did, knowing the Hexward Tenets back-to-front, upside-down, and inside-out, enough to toll about them from sunrise to sunset. Yes, from the outside-looking-in he might have seemed merely a dumb bunny -- a  _ farm- _ bunny, no less -- an honest-to-a-fault country bumpkin with more muscle than brains… But he was darn near a genius amongst rabbits; could spin a fluffle round-and-round until they didn’t know their ears from their feet; probably because he wasn’t welcome in many rabbit activities as a kit. And then was shipped off with the other “cursed” bunnies to go live with the hares on the outskirts of Bunnyburrow, just like all “cursed” bunnies his age were. He lived nearly his whole life outside of rabbits while engulfed by them.

_ How can no one else hear it…?  _ Judy pleaded,  _ That sound… that cacophony… what is it…? _

“That’s something of a  _ leap _ , though, isn’t it? Nivins?” Magnus said. When his face turned to the others, his eyes stayed on Judy. When his eyes turned to the others, his face stayed on Judy. When his body turned or head turned it all, everything stayed locked on Judy. Those dark eyes. That bright grin. His voice… something else hid in his voice, between the words and through the syllables like a rattling, rusty chain.

**_Squelch_ **

The noise racked Judy’s ears.

**_Squelch_ **

It locked her spine.

**_Squelch_ **

_ What is it? _

**_Squelch_ **

_ Where did I hear it? _

**_Squelch_ **

“You know whence, Candleflame.”

_ I guess not all of the Night Howler is gone… _

Graham stood as a hazy hallucination in the blind spot of Judy’s vision, his voice like the gentle scratching of one who was trapped inside a box or outside in the dark.  **I’m here** , it begged. Judy had emotions for all those she was connected with and could bind a sound to that feeling, if she tried. It took a while, though. It took finding out who they  _ really _ were. She found Graham when he bared his brokenness to her; when she realized that his emptiness was not a cold, killing intent but blind scrambling for  _ some _ one to reach out for him; after she found out that he choked down meat to stay the voracious cannibalism of his own genetic disorder, a death of attrition known as the “bunny curse”.

**_Squelch_ **

_ What is that sound? _ she asked again.

“You know whence it came,” Graham repeated, standing behind his father, bracing his chair in his pitch-black tuxedo and blood-red vest, the clothes she last saw him in before their escape of the Hopps Manor. His ears were tall and proud, butterscotch with coffee-brown spots; spots he got from his father.

**_Squelch_ **

Judy felt nauseous as she remembered that sound, that horrid sound of teeth rending flesh… but not fangs, not  _ fangs _ but blunt, grinding teeth tearing into meat and  _ grinding _ it in a mouth not meant but  _ forced _ to masticate and generate that horrid. Gut-wrenching.  _ Wicked _ sound.

**_Squelch_ **

“He knows.”

**_Squelch_ **

_ What does he know? _

**_Squelch_ **

“You  _ know _ he knows.”

**_Squelch_ **

_ What do we know! _

**_Squelch_ **

“ _ I _ know.”

…

“Don’t I?”

_ …Of course! _

“ _ Say it _ , Candleflame,” Graham joyously urged before both he and his voice whisked away like the mist from a waking eye so that everyone else could come into focus.

“You  _ know _ ,” Judy aloud dared, paw alighting upon the tabletop as she  _ challenged _ those dark eyes. Her voice rang like a single bell in a clear morning, all three bucks at the table quieting to address her. Bo seemed to have stumbled over his words and was thankful to not respond to Nivins. Magnus… seemed perplexed.

“I know  _ what _ now?” he wondered… if condescendingly, “I must admit, Judy, I rather liked you when you were  _ more _ vocal because you actually made the occasional sense. All of this… quiet contemplation is so  _ unlike _ you that I’m at a loss as to what to make of it all.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright, Judy?” Nivins asked, his voice ripe with concern.

“You know who Bo’s parents are,” she ascertained, “ _ Don’t _ you?” It was only a passing thought at the dinner table with Graham, something to catch him off guard, to distract him for a daring escape. It hadn’t occurred to her that it was any sort of information to hold onto since it was little more than a bluff.  _ Bo’s genetic records are sealed which could only be done by his parents or an executor to their estate and yet Graham called him a ‘half-hare’ so he must know his parentage; meaning Magnus probably knows, too. And if that’s the case… then he violated one of the strongest Tenets keeping rabbits together: every bunny counts. Bo wouldn’t have bounced from family to family if Magnus knew his parents and had the means to care for him. It’s a shot in the dark… but I’ve got a good feeling about it. _

Neither Bo nor McTwisp reacted in any sort of vocal way. Bo first blinked with some mixture of disbelief and bewilderment… and when Judy grasped his arm he then looked at Magnus to respond, “Is that  _ true _ ?”

McTwisp, in a wholly unfamiliar stunned fashion, beseeched Magnus with an arched brow to verify such a claim.

The dark eyes calculated… and as they focused on Bo they seemed to sharpen with malice, a culmination of that entire conversation in which a deep discussion on the sincere adherence and application of the Hexward Tenets rubbed his nerves raw. At last, the shark was ready to frenzy. “I… knew  _ of _ them,” he admitted with such a false melancholy, for an underlying anticipation lifted his tone the slightest bit, “There are, as you know,  _ hundreds _ upon  _ hundreds _ of baby bunnies born every day across the city. Why, there’s probably one being born right  _ now _ ! I just so happened to be in the hospital visiting an acquaintance of mine when I chanced to hear that a ‘Robert Briar’ was born, a remarkably  _ common _ name of some  _ do-nothing _ father who couldn’t be bothered to show up for his own son’s birth.”

Bo’s fingers scraped on the tabletop, his arm tensing through Judy’s steady grip.

“Which is such a  _ shame _ , really,” Magnus continued, much more relaxed, much more comfortable as he leaned an elbow on the table to stab again, “considering  _ she _ didn’t survive the delivery. Imagine that, Briar, the  _ one _ bunny in the entire world that might’ve  _ truly _ cared for you and the first thing you do is  _ kill _ her.”

“ _ Magnus! _ ” a shocked Nivins declared, looking up from his tablet to chastise the cavalier manner of his associate, earning for his indignation a smirking shrug. He then bristled and glowered before returning to his touchscreen.

Bo’s ears fell back as he quaked where he sat, all color drained from his face, “Y-… you’re  _ lying _ !”

_ No… no this isn’t what I meant to do! _ Judy regretted, holding his arm and shoulder with both paws to comfort him, leaning in to whisper, “Bobo, the same thing happened to Esther’s mother; but she’d agree with me that it wasn’t your fault and never could be!”

Magnus’s eyes glinted fiercer. “I’m only answering a sincere question with a sincere answer,” he said, “What would you expect from a  _ cursed _ mother, anyway? It’s a wonder she survived to adulthood but at least she didn’t have to count her breaths,  _ ‘eh _ ? Saved everybunny else  _ that _ bedside tragedy.”

“That’s  _ enough _ !” Judy rebuked, tears beaded in the corners of her eyes, finger thrust across the table, “Making light of maternal fatality and a rabbit suffocating under the weight of their own ribcage… it’s horrible!”

And yet, Nivins said nothing.

“One might say that Bo did her a  _ favor _ ,” Magnus kept on and held up his crossed fingers, as though to make a wish, “After all, isn’t one of the ‘Eternal Wishes’ to  _ die  _ so that somebunny else  _ might _ live?  _ Well _ , there you have it! His mother died a  _ bloody _ death because her son had the  _ gall _ to be born. I even chanced to hear her cry out, ‘Let me hold him,  _ please _ let me hold him’ before she went. And  _ bravo _ for all the good you’ve done with this life she gave you, ‘Bobo’, but she  _ really _ hadn’t much else going for her otherwise than a horrific demise-”

“Shut up!” Bo yelled, rocketing to his feet.

“Oh  _ please, _ don’t act like you  _ miss _ her, you never even  _ met _ her,” Magnus dismissed, calmly rising to his own feet, “Come to think of it, your dead-beat daddy didn’t last long after that. Want to hear how it happened? I just so happen to  _ know _ .”

“Stop it!” Judy demanded, also standing, “Nivins, you can’t  _ still  _ be defending this guy?”

But Nivins didn’t seem capable of talking, only staring aghast at his tablet before he pointed at it with a shaking finger and lifted his quivering pink eyes and ghostly face. “ _ Magnus… _ ” he whined, “you said he  _ died _ …”

The room was once again robbed of sound. Magnus’s dark eyes dulled as he inclined the slightest bit and tilted the corner of Nivin’s tablet to figure out what he was on the verge of tears about.

“I was  _ there… _ that night… we  _ all _ were there…” Nivins continued, slowly rising to his feet to look his associate in the eye, weakly pleading though he was, “ _ You _ were there, too… you… you  _ lied _ …” To this, Magnus dropped all pretense and grinned such a grin as to challenge Nivins to do anything about it. The albino rabbit trembled… and then  _ vibrated _ with so great a righteous fury that the color erupted in his face and ears, like a thermometer against the Sahara Square asphalt. “On a  _ federal form _ !” he shrieked.

The outburst stunned the other three rabbits (even Judy; even Magnus) as they each reeled back at the towering pillar of bureaucratic outrage. Yes, Nivins McTwisp found purchase for his expertise and authority, narrow though it was, and with it came a deluge of confidence and vigor. “That death certificate is a  _ black spot _ , Magnus Hopps, a  _ blemish _ on the Knotash community! You  _ knew _ and yet allowed such a  _ grievous _ oversight to perpetuate for  _ decades _ ; I daresay you even  _ instigated it! _ Have you any  _ idea _ , even an  _ inkling _ as to the  _ shame _ this brings upon the rabbits of Knotash?” McTwisp bellowed and even  _ advanced _ on the coffee-spotted bunny, “And what’s more, you allowed an orphaned kit to be  _ neglected _ first in Deerbrooke and then in Bunnyburrow, even though it was in your  _ power _ \-- your  _ duty _ \-- to accept him and care for him as though he were your  _ own _ .” He then gasped in horror, “And if you endeavored to obfuscate the truth on such a matter as  _ that _ , then the depths of your depravity over these many,  _ many _ years must be nauseating,  _ indeed _ !

“Consider any and  _ all _ protections afforded to you by Knotash and the House of Blessings hereby  _ revoked _ , Magnus Hopps, pending a  _ thorough _ investigation!” McTwisp condemned with a jutting of his finger, “We can only wish that the damage you’ve  _ inflicted _ upon a sacrosanct reputation is, in time,  _ repairable! _ And worst of all --  _ worst of all, _ ” Nivins reiterated and then trembled again as his jaw clamped shut, tears finally dropping down his cheeks before he could manage to squeak out, “ _ He _ might have lived if he knew he had a son to live  _ for! _ ” The albino rabbit then turned to both Judy and Bo (who were, though startled, quietly cheering him on as he read Magnus the riot act) and stated in a lower but still conducive tone (after thoroughly wiping his face), “Reparations  _ must _ be made, starting here and now and as is in my authority to do so. Bo Briar, your parents-”

Magnus’s fist was faster, though, colliding with Nivins’s throat to throttle the old rabbit on his own words, thus crumpling him into a heap as he clutched his neck and struggled to breathe. In a twinkling, Judy vaulted onto the table in a direct line of her instinctual drive to protect and serve… except she was yanked by the waist of her dress, such that the air from a brutal, snapping punch only sifted the fur on her nose as Bo pulled her back and caught her.

“ _ Ooh-hoo-hoo _ ,” Magnus cooed with a waggle of his finger, “you’re a  _ quick _ one.” There was no mask anymore, nothing to hide the sadistic glee on full, boastful display. “But shucky-darn,  _ this _ was a bust,” he groaned, bracing the table’s edge to hunch his shoulders, “It’s a good thing those bunnies out  _ there _ work for me anyway so I’ll just clean up in  _ here _ and get on with my life… not that I can say the same for  _ you _ -”

Magnus talked as Judy was set on her feet… and when her toes touched ground her paw drew the stun-gun from Bo’s Burrow Watch utility belt and leveled it, “Paws up!” she demanded.

“‘Kay~” he answered, paws indeed flung into the air and with them, the table along with all its contents, flipped fully towards the younger bunnies and blocking Judy’s reflexive shot. Bo slid forward and braced, one paw down and the other up to catch the airborne furniture on his shoulder while Judy ejected the used cartridge and reloaded while ducking-&-weaving beneath the table’s edge. The brown bunny continued his advance, throwing the table over his shoulder but both he and Judy stopped dead when they saw Magnus raising a disparaged Nivins like a shield. “Why don’t you go ahead and toss that gun this way, li’l missy?” he warned.

_ Was Nivins on Magnus’s side this whole time or was he lied to, like everybunny else? _ she wondered, sidearm already leveled, glaring down its barrel. Her and Bo’s ears flinched at the telltale spring of a switchblade announcing itself, and then the gleam of its edge poked around the whimpering albino rabbit, already parting the fibers of his tailored shirt, right where his ribs would be.  _ Biscuits… _

“How good’s your aim, Judy?” Magnus poised, “How fast are you, Bo? Good enough; fast enough? Are you willing to let my buddy Nivins here pay for your error in judgment?  _ Hmm _ ?” The knife poked and Nivins cried out, standing on his toes so to not sink further onto that blade, eyes bugging as a single trickle of bright scarlet dripped from him.

“Alright, don’t hurt him!” Judy ceded and threw the gun away as though it were a hot potato, it clattering at the order bunnies’ feet.  _ Magnus went right past any negotiation tactics… What’s his goal here? Whoa! _ she then thought, gasping as well when Nivins was thrown at both her and Bo. He was immediately laid down as Judy tended to him, grabbing a handkerchief from his coat pocket and pressing it on the wound, “Don’t worry, it’s not deep,” she assured him, and whispered other comforts to him… and he weakly nodded…

“I… I’m so…  _ so _ sorry…” he wheezed despite his bruised throat.

Bo was already upright and interposed between them and Magnus, fists up and brow knitted.

“O _ kay _ , let’s not lose our heads here,” Magnus said, stun-gun held, “Fun fact, did you know that these things are  _ lethal _ up close? Yeah, even at this distance I could kill just about anybunny in this room…” he then mulled it over, “ _ Tempting _ , very tempting but you see-” His smile fell like a rock as he glimpsed at…  _ something _ on the floor, “Alright, Briar, on your haunches and grab your ears.” Bo only glowered fiercer so Magnus directed the barrel at Judy, instead, “Your life began by killing the one doe who loved you. Do you want your life to  _ end _ in the same way?” he warned, cocking the gun… and then leered, “I can’t deny, that  _ would _ be poetic.”

Hazel eyes burned with outrage… but he  _ did _ comply… begrudgingly.

Magnus kept the gun trained on the three of them as he edged over to the bag of comic books, partially uncovered before he kicked it to push out an issue. His stance was as hard and stiff as tempered steel as he folded and pocketed his knife to kneel down and pick one up. “Well,  _ that _ explains a  _ lot _ …” he said, teeth audibly grinding through his frown. He flapped the comic book about as he glared at Judy and Bo, “Your ‘dear friend,  _ Johnson _ ’, wasn’t it? The  _ fly _ in my soup? The  _ thorn _ in my paw?” he growled, “Who. Is. Johnson?”

_ I sincerely don’t know what Nick was talking about with that, _ Judy thought,  _ Not that Magnus knows it. _ So, figuring what Nick would do in such a situation, she smirked,  _ Have some more rope, Magnus, let’s see you trip yourself up further. _

The dark eyes narrowed… fist curling tighter around the stun-gun… and then his eyes shot open. “Of  _ course _ … it all makes sense now. ‘Johnson’ is the  _ ‘Sparrow’ _ and ‘Dawson’ must be how he keeps in contact with you and your  _ accursed _ foxes…” He seemed a bit staggered as he muttered, “The Sparrow’s been a  _ fox _ this whole time… How could I have  _ missed  _ that? And here I thought I solved my fox problem  _ decades  _ ago…”

_ My ‘I totally meant to do that’ game must really be getting better, _ Judy considered, not letting her momentary confidence waver, or rather, the perception thereof.

A malevolent snarl stretched his face. “So much to do, so little time… and just when I thought I could catch my breath,” Magnus complained and then threw the first issue of “Captain Warren and the Winter Wolf” onto the ground in front of them, “Nivins, answer me honestly… weren’t all of those  _ destroyed _ ?”

Nivins wheezed as he trembled, reaching for the comic. He looked up and nodded when he got a better look at it.

“Then what is _ that _ ?” he demanded, stun-gun directed invariably at the albino rabbit.

“It…is…” he tried to answer, shook his head, gulped, and then wheezed again after he took a long breath before gripping Judy’s paw, “good… fortune!”

Dark eyes glared. Teeth clicked behind pursed lips as he squeezed the trigger.

Judy’s leg snapped to its full length, the ball of her foot colliding with the barrel of the sidearm just as it fired to send Magnus’s arm wide. The bullet screamed through the three of them, clipping Nivin’s ear and imbedding itself into the floor behind them. She was already pushing off with the paw braced (and hidden) behind Nivin’s head as her foot retracted back to her crouched position (which, from Magnus’s perspective, looked as though the elderly rabbit’s head rested in her lap while the billows of her skirt kept the readied bend of her legs further obscured).

Bo’s arms swung, the first clapping his earthen mitt-of-a-paw against the stun-gun’s barrel, already loosened from Magnus’s grip and easily batted aside. With his other paw curled into a fist, locked into the position like a bolt in a crossbrow as the muscles along his arm tensed with the latent power. A twist of his hips and chest launched a counter-attack to punch Magnus’s face.

Judy hiked both legs and pushed off the floor to bury the heels of her feet into Magnus’s torso, since his arms were up in a guard, and send him staggering back with Bo in hot pursuit.  _ Stun-gun, two shots left… _ she evaluated, thighs curling with athletic might as she sprung for the bouncing sidearm, darting across the floor and tumbling around it to catch it, cock it, stick the landing, and level the gun as she knelt to re-evaluate the situation.

Bo’s following-up strike had landed true against the blocking arms… but as she told him time and time again, he left himself wide open after his attacks. He was already bringing himself back into a defensive position but…

“If you’re going to punch someone… you have to  _ mean it! _ ” Magnus ec _ stat _ ically taunted, stomping the ground to uppercut directly into Bo’s gut, lifting the farm-bunny off his toes as he doubled over and spat out clear regurgitate. They both groaned as Magnus retracted his fist, though, “Son-of-a-red-light- _ regular _ , it’s like punching a tire…” he rued, shaking and flexing his paw before spitting out a tooth from the earlier strike to his face. His ears flicked towards Judy again.

“Turn around slowly and grab your ears,” she instructed at Magnus’s three-quarter-turned back, having bounded about the two of them to acquire the stun-gun,  _ This is a really bad situation and I’m not on duty… but I’m still a police officer, no matter what, _ Judy ascertained,  _ I will not lower myself to his level. _

Both of his paws were held out on either side of him, minutely glancing over his shoulder but the hateful glare and grin were all the more evident. “Can’t shoot an unarmed rabbit in the back? Lucky me~” He ducked-&-weaved, shifting and pivoting as the bunny cop’s shot hit the phone in his jacket pocket with a telltale cracking of its case. Bo’s head rose, nearly recovered but then his ear was grabbed, wrenched as Magnus hunkered behind him, bending him back with another flick of the knife.

The stun-gun cocked.  _ One of three _ , she counted.

Bo groaned in alarm as he tried to maintain his balance, both arms held out even though his neck was craned back, wincing at the paw bending his diminutive ear and the, “Knife,  _ knife _ .”

“You know, I forgot  _ all _ about you until tonight, Briar, so color  _ me _ surprised when Nivins pieced together who you  _ really _ are!” Magnus declared and then wondered aloud, “ _ Jeez _ , you are just made to order,  _ aren’t _ you? Could use some muscle like you.”

“Not in a  _ hundred _ years!” Bo denied.

“You need a little  _ steel _ is all,” he continued, “I can fix all that cotton stuffing, you know, make you into a  _ real _ bunny.”

“Last chance, Magnus,” Judy warned.  _ No clear shot of him… maybe if I get closer… _

“Go on, shoot through your love-bun, I can just patch him up later,” he dismissed and slowly inched towards the door, “As we were saying, Briar, I think there’s a lot of potential in you,  _ yeah _ , I’m quite good at spotting it, seeing who’s good for what-”

“I would  _ never _ -”

“Come off it,” Magnus interrupted, peeking under an arm or around a shoulder, “We’re plenty similar, you and I, we’re both natural-born  _ killers _ .”

“ _ Enough _ , Magnus,” Judy said and slid towards the door to cut him off, “Let him go.” The three stood at an impasse, moving only the slightest bit to counter any inching or shifting the other might attempt.

Hazel eyes then blinked and glanced about… looking directly at Judy and with a single turn of his wrist and a single pointed finger… urged her to keep him talking.

_ …What does he know that I don’t? _ she wondered but dared not twitch an ear or eye away from her adversary, for even the slightest hint that she paid attention to anything else could lose them whatever edge Bo discovered,  _ No matter, he must have a plan _ . “Funny, Graham called you a ‘serial killer without the body count’,” Judy recalled, “Was he being ironic?”

Magnus chuckled cruelly. “He  _ would  _ say that but then, for all his faults and inadequacies, my son is an  _ excellent _ liar,” he affirmed with calculated peeking, “And I don’t see any cute little, carrot-shaped memo-pen so how about I just come out and  _ say _ it? I’ve killed  _ plenty _ of mammals, plenty of  _ rabbits _ but I simply cannot compare with Bo,” he taunted, squeezing the brown bunny’s ear, “It took me  _ all the way _ into childhood to start.”

_ Sweet cheese-&-crackers… _ Judy dreaded, her stun-gun drooping the slightest bit but when he leered triumphantly, she snapped it and her grimace back into place. And then Bo gasped and shuddered as the blade threatened him again,  _ Hang in there, Bobo… _

“You’re lucky, you know that?” Magnus said, no doubt noticing Judy’s momentary jitters, “Not all bunnies are born a Hopps. Or a Lapis.  _ I _ was born a Howard,” he explained, “Little Henry Howard from the expertly hidden slums of Deciduousville, one of several dozens of bunnies crammed into a warren. And it wasn’t one of your precious farm-families,  _ working together  _ for a better tomorrow,” he scoffed, “Some nights I didn’t get to eat because an older sibling was hungrier than me. Some days I didn’t get to go to school because there was ‘work to do’. Never  _ had _ anything of my own because someone  _ else _ took it from me. And  _ oh _ , the sort of things my ‘family’ did would curl your ears,” he then snickered, “You want to see  _ real _ cruelty? Gander at what rabbits do to each  _ other _ . I learned to keep an ear out for  _ all _ of them  _ real _ quick.”

_ Keep it together… _ Judy assured herself, breath steadied to maintain her aim.

“We all slept in a single room, kept warm by our bodies and a rattling heater. Except me,  _ I _ was pushed against a drafty corner, nearly froze my nose off each night…” Magnus recalled, and then pressed his blade into Bo’s back as he tried to escape, the faintest smell of blood then on the air, “Don’t be  _ rude _ , Briar, or else I’ll teach you proper  _ manners _ ,” and wrenched the ear a bit worse. “I eventually found out that the heater leaked gas and that my drafty, little corner was the only significant source of air. So, I closed the vents while everyone else was asleep, took my little blanket and wedged myself against into place, hoarding all the air for myself. And I waited. And listened. Until my clouded breath was the  _ only _ one in the room.”

_ Keep it… together…  _ Judy attempted, her paws shaking around the stun-gun, blinking back the tears,  _ But… all those bunnies… those lives… _

The obsidian glint of Magnus’s eye surely caught her distress because he leered all the fiercer. “I first took back my little pillow, the one a sister of mine swiped from me and I finished her off with it. I was amazed at how  _ easy _ it was,” he said, as if in awe, “That’s when I realized the unique opportunity I had. If I orphaned  _ myself _ , I could move  _ up _ in the world… get into a  _ better _ family… so that’s what I did. It took me all night and into the morning but I and my little pillow took care of the Howards, one-by-one;  _ all _ of them. And then I snuggled back into my drafty corner and had the best sleep of my life.”

“How… how  _ could _ you?” Judy decried, breath coming in rasping bursts. She only then realized how near he was…  _ Did I inch this close…? _ The cloud of emotion cleared as she pushed with all the strength in her heart to not think about the entire family of rabbits, the Howards and their  _ murder _ , to remember that, yes, Magnus had been inching forward the whole time. Bo tried to dig in his heels but that knife kept him in check. Her heartstrings were tugged and plucked with malevolent expertise…

“Catch!” Magnus then shouted as he launched Bo onto Judy, she yelping and wheeling back as he tried to catch his balance, but with the kick to the back of his knee he only just managed to not collapse atop her. The stun-gun clattered on the floor. “It was the biggest tragedy in our neighborhood for  _ years _ … kept quiet though it was,” Magnus then explained, retrieving the sidearm and stepping back to point it at the two bunnies on the floor, gesturing them up, onto their haunches, “Poor little Henry,  _ sobbing _ and  _ bawling _ and  _ hiccupping _ about the loss of his  _ entire  _ family. It was  _ so sad _ that it garnered the attention of the biggest bunny in the city. No… not a Lapis. Reginald Hopps. I knew my time had come. It was all a PR ploy, sure, but he invested in Deciduousville’s slums and adopted me as a son… and that’s the important thing, right? It all works out in the end.”

“You killed  _ dozens _ of rabbits…” Bo shot back as he and Judy abided the lunatic with the stun-gun, each squatting and grabbing their ears.

“And I killed  _ dozens _ more after that,  _ hundreds, _ ” Magnus dismissed, the swelling from where he was punched quite blatant, “Heck, I  _ would’ve _ killed dozens yesterday if you hadn’t mucked up all my careful planning.  _ Years _ of forethought,  _ millions _ of dollars down the drain because of  _ you _ ,” he then seemed plaintive, “Do you even  _ realize _ what you’ve done? Nivins talks about  _ ‘damage’ _ but he has no idea…  _ you _ have no idea!” he then accused and crouched down, firearm still leveled, “Want to know what happens to self-righteous,  _ arrogant _ mammals who meddle in affairs bigger than them? They are  _ dealt _ with; silenced, converted, exiled, killed… in some cases, the punishment passes down through their family for  _ generations _ ,” he scoffed and stood, “You act like a few dozen rabbits is any  _ real _ loss. Or even a few dozen  _ mammals _ .  _ I’m _ trying to do something  _ great _ and you get all sentimental over someone else’s discomfort.  _ Look _ where it’s got you.”

Judy glowered, attempting to get up but staying when his finger squeezed around the trigger, “You don’t get to decide who lives and dies-”

“Of  _ course _ I do!” Magnus declared with a sweep of his paw, “Not  _ I _ alone, granted, but that’s why there would be a  _ system _ in place to determine who is  _ worthy _ to live and who’d be better off  _ dead _ .”

“‘ _ Worthy _ ’?” Bo demanded.

“It would benefit  _ every _ one,” he argued with a tired sigh, standing up again, “I don’t expect either of you to understand, you think all life is  _ equal _ when in reality, some life is  _ far _ more valuable than others, as some  _ deaths _ are more valuable. Listen,” he continued, “I’ve studied world history -- as you  _ both _ have -- and societal progress  _ clearly  _ shows that mammals  _ need _ to be controlled or else they just make a  _ mess _ of things. Do I need to direct you to the  _ plethora _ of mammals --  _ today _ \-- who are still trying to ‘find themselves’ and failing  _ miserably _ at it?” he reviled, “All of those resources on their petty endeavors,  _ wasted _ . And on top of that, perfectly good bodies and minds with  _ so  _ much  _ potential _ … that goes  _ untapped _ .”

“What do you mean by ‘valuable deaths’?” Judy asked…  _ warily _ so.

Magnus groaned in frustration. “ _ Resources _ , Judy, weren’t you listening? Mammals die every day and then they’re just…  _ thrown _ into the ground, tossed at sea, or cremated when they could give  _ back _ to the society which they spent all their lives  _ taking _ from.” To the pair of incredulous, horror-stricken faces, he continued (and never let the loaded barrel leave either of them), “Meat, you  _ blithering _ idiots; pelt, leather, bones, blood, eyeballs, organs, hooves, claws, horns, antlers, fangs…” he then leered again as their faces worsened with each aspect of a mammal’s body listed off, “Have you ever eaten pig before?”

_ I think I’m going to be sick… _ Judy trembled.

“Or maybe elk?  _ Bear _ , perhaps? The younger meat is  _ far _ tenderer but the older ones have a certain…  _ toughness _ that I rather enjoy,” he explained and then stretched his grin wider, “I think you’re finally beginning to understand, but tell me something… are you familiar with ‘the Abyss’?” he asked, letting the question hang in the air like a cobweb, “It’s baffled philosophers and theologians for _ ever _ .

“Mammals in their deepest, darkest moments describe a blackness in their dreams that’s always just out of arm’s reach, you see. Some  _ have _ grasped it, though…” Magnus said with a diabolical reverence, “using substances that devolve them into their primal selves, back to when we were overcome with bloodlust and fear. Those that make it back describe their experience into what was collectively called ‘the Abyss’,” he explained, “All  _ I _ want to do is just… put some mammals back there for  _ good _ … for the  _ greater _ good.”

“You won’t get away with this!” Judy declared.

Magnus laughed, high and cold, “ _ Stupid _ girl, it’s already underway! The Pred-Scare was but  _ one _ avenue that failed -- as I figured it would but we got some  _ amazing _ data off it along with the seeds of fear planted deep in the city-”

“Don’t forget that  _ your _ sinister plot  _ also _ failed,” Bo reminded.

“By no fault of its  _ own _ ,” he snarled, “No worries, I’ve got plenty of  _ other _ ideas and I’ll just keep the engine running until the world returns to how it  _ should _ be… with the appropriate improvements, of course. Those who are deemed unworthy will be reverted back to their dumb,  _ useful _ selves while the rest of us flourish. Besides, the Knotash servers are already primed for the next step: processing the biological data of  _ millions _ in real-time, streaming in from fancy hardware that everyone in the city will have around their necks.”

Judy gasped. “You plan to collar the city’s predator population?”

He snorted derisively. “ _ Do _ try to think  _ before _ you speak. I said  _ every _ one in the city,” and then chuckled, “ _ Oh,  _ don’t give me that  _ look _ ; collars would only be the  _ prototypes _ until implanted chips are a more viable option. I also would’ve liked to better develop the drug used for permanent regression but our newest  _ midnicampum holicithias _ formula is good enough for  _ processing _ and distribution.

“It was a  _ hard _ road, had its ups-&-downs… I even had to take out some  _ really _ important mammals,” Magnus lamented, “I try not to kill the useful ones…  _ Stagmire _ wasn’t killed, even though he was getting too close;  _ Lionheart _ wasn’t killed either… he’s still fully functional, too!  _ Incarcerated _ , yes, but we can always try again with him,” he said, watching them closely still, “You  _ see _ ? I’m not just some…  _ heartless _ murderer, I only have killed the mammals that can stop me,” he had to admit, “I’m not blinded by emotion like  _ you _ are, though.  _ I _ do what  _ has _ to be done when something  _ has _ to be done. I even gave that idiot father of mine a chance… and on a silver platter!

“I told him if he ever came back I’d  _ kill _ him, so what does he do? He comes back. And what must  _ I _ do? Kill him. Had to bring in the Gravedigger to do it, too;  _ that _ was expensive…” the rabbit sighed as he complained, “Worth every penny, though. Reggie always pointed an ear over his shoulder, going around in his armored, automated car… I don’t know how he did it but Ramses  _ wrapped _ it around a telephone pole and tied a bow on top. It was  _ artistry _ .  _ Killed  _ him in an  _ instant _ . And then there was the cleanup, of course, but that was  _ easy _ .”

He then frowned as the darkness in his eyes worsened all the more with a  _ tsk _ , “I was hoping  _ one _ of you would at least be  _ excited _ after hearing all this but you’re making me kill you  _ both _ , aren’t you? All of this stubborn  _ indignation _ , what with your  _ frowning _ and  _ gagging _ . Such a  _ shame _ , too, you both had  _ so _ much potential…” Magnus seemed… genuinely upset in some twisted way, as he then held the stun-gun scant millimeters from Bo’s forehead, slowly squeezing the trigger while addressing Judy, “Just  _ look _ at what you’ve  _ done… _ ”

Judy and Bo then exchanged a smile and some light snickering, effectively staying the itchy trigger finger. “I might not have my memo-pen but did you know that the House of Blessings  _ always _ records  _ every  _ interaction, no matter how big or small?” she said.

As their grins rose, Magnus’s face fell and then he pivoted to find that Nivins McTwisp, his pained grunting and groaning sufficiently muted by a paw, had crawled towards his dropped tablet with all his scavenged might. A quivering paw raised and touched a button on the screen with a delightful chime as the  **Sending…** animation commenced.

Magnus broke into a sprint and McTwisp curled into a ball, cowering at the stomping of his tablet; he then turned around, pushing a paw over the disheveled fur atop his head to leer and laugh once more. “I knew about the  _ recording _ but I’ll admit I was surprised to find this old fool still had life in him. No matter; even with Knotash tech, it couldn’t have sent it back from all the way out  _ here _ , so quickly…” But his knife-twisting triumph was momentary as he found that both Judy and Bo were standing… and Bo unhooked his walkie-talkie from his belt.

“Boulder to Watchtower, do you copy? Over,” he said and slid his finger to the pressed talk-button to unstick it from its own casing.

“Loud and clear, Boulder, over,” it said. Magnus’s face went deathly pale.

“Did you get all that, Mr. Barley?” Bo then continued in a much more casual tone to match his and Judy’s casual grins.

“Every word, Deputy Briar, we are closing in on your position for the  _ ‘sting’ _ operation.”

The walkie-talkie coughed as Bo put it back into its holster.

“I turned it on before we entered the room,” Judy boasted to Magnus’s incredulity, “Let’s be honest here, there’s  _ no _ other reason you’d risk coming out unless to pin everything on  _ me _ , so I broadcast our entire conversation with the help of my ‘emotional support’, Bo. And since there was no non-disclosure agreement signed before coming in here,  _ well… _ ”

Magnus gaped like a fish on deck. “Then… then they heard  _ every _ thing, even your-!” he argued.

“They  _ sure _ did,” she agreed, “but that’s what you do when you put others before yourself, Magnus, and expect more from yourself than you do of others. That’s how a good society works.” She then pulled out her  _ bing- _ ing phone and said, “‘What,  _ anything? _ ’”

_ “Hello, Judy Hopps,” _ her phone digitally chimed.

“Forward to ‘Sissy’, high priority.”

_ “Message sent.” _

Judy then pocketed her phone to say, “You see, Nivins sent that recording to  _ me _ so that I could send it to Esther Grey, who was put on the Knotash servers for her work with the Felix,” and then giggled, “A fox on the Knotash servers… what a day it’s been, huh?”

“It’s been pretty wild,” Bo agreed.

“ _ Ooh _ , you’re bleeding…”

“Am I?” he grunted and reached behind, “It stings more than anything. Oh  _ no _ , this is Fat Frank’s shirt, I can’t return it like  _ this _ …”

Magnus bit back a  _ very _ harsh bit of profanity as he leveled the stun-gun on both Judy and Bo, “This  _ isn’t _ over,” he decided as he sidestepped over to the door, them hurrying to attend to McTwisp, “ _ Far _ from over.” He turned and grabbed a handle, cracking open one door to a chorus of cocking stun-guns and tranq-rifles (along with one of his assistants screaming “You  _ monster! _ ”). Magnus slammed the door closed and promptly locked it. “Alright, let’s see here…” he pondered aloud, “Okay, good, all huddled together, makes it easier for me to  _ shoot  _ you,” he said if more muttering to himself in some feeble attempts to intimidate.

A chair was then wedged under the smaller doors’ handles (and the table under the larger doors’) before it all bulged with impact, to which Magnus leapt away. “I still have hostages, no worries,” he continued in something of a panic as the door bulged again, noises outside muted by the “confidential” sound dampening. “You all have  _ officially _ gotten on my last nerve,” and brought up the stun-gun again to point it at the other rabbits in the room, the door bulging again and again but proved too sturdy for the Burrow Watch. “I’ve got  _ plenty _ more friends to call, strings to pull… and I might just go ‘scorched-earth policy’ on this backwater-”

All sets of ears then  _ sprung _ towards the door as a great bellow filled the room along with the splintering of wood as Lanny  _ barreled _ through it like a runaway freight train. In an eternal second, Magnus gawked at the tawny titan and as he attempted to bring his gun around… a long shot from Officer Wilde hit the coffee-spotted rabbit dead-center and with it, a crippling shock arched to knock him off his feet.

The fox swaggered in and blew non-existent smoke from the tip of his ZPD-issued sidearm, spun it on a finger, and holstered it to say, “Looks like we got here in the  _ nick _ of time.”

Judy sighed and smiled,  _ My trusty, lucky fox. _

* * *

A pensive, seething Magnus was muzzled and strapped to a dolly in the back of a deputy's cruiser, along with a guard of Mr. Barley’s most trusted Burrow Watch members (sans Bo). Before the door was closed and the ride to the sheriff’s office began, however, Nick gave the coffee-spotted rabbit something to chew on: “I’m Johnson” and flicked his eyebrows in a quick arch. He grinned and bid the bunnies all the luck in the world as Magnus looked ready to combust.

Lanny patched up Bo and Mr. McTwisp (with  _ amazingly _ precise claws) and then abided Judy’s wishes to speak with them privately. They were both seated on a bench outside the notary, each with a hot cup of coffee in simple styrofoam with a trauma blanket draped across their shoulders. “Turns out some of the Watch remained in the area after Dr. Honey had reported Lanny’s truck ‘just rolling away on its own’, so she called Mr. Barley. They caught the rabbits who did it, too… looks like ‘grand theft auto’ will be added to Magnus’s list of crimes,” she chuckled.

“Why steal Lanny’s truck?” Bo asked.

She glanced momentarily to the bowed head of Nivins before answering, knowing full well the sensitivity of Lanny’s current situation as a target, and then looked over to the lion conversing with the Burrow Watch. “Maybe they were trying to kidnap  _ Lanny _ . I only got bits and pieces, but they thought he was in there by tracking his phone to it and the ‘unmistakable reek of lion’. As far as schemes go, that one seemed half-baked at best; no doubt Magnus’s  _ elite _ goons were off doing more important things.” Judy then sat on the albino rabbit’s other side.

“I’m sorry, Judy,” Nivins managed with a still hoarse voice, daring to glimpse.

Gray ears flopped as her head shook. “Don’t be. It sounds like Magnus kept everybunny in the dark about… well,  _ every _ thing.”

Pink eyes cast down as he curled his trauma blanket around himself a bit tighter. “I am still tasked with cleaning up his mess,” he said and picked up his cracked tablet, however well it was still functioning, “Bo… even though your records  _ are _ sealed and you are not in my direct employ… I am willing to make an exception…”

Hazel eyes brightened as he leaned in to address what was on the screen. “My application for the Lapis Scholarship…?”

Nivins pointed at the date of birth. “Hundreds of bunnies  _ are _ born every day and we, at Knotash, endeavor to keep track of  _ all _ of them down to the second, even in the other Burrows. You did not have an  _ exact _ time of birth, Bo, as is the case with all abandoned bunnies… but I know  _ this _ date very well…”

Judy sat beside Nivins to touch and calm his trembling arm, then saying, “It’s the same day that Mary Ann Lapis died… anyone close to the Lapises would be affected by that day.”

The albino rabbit’s chin quivered. “Magnus lead us to believe that her newborn baby died with her…” He then looked up to the astonished face of Bo, “The Felix…  _ Oswald _ saw your application and  _ agonized _ over it, unsure what it was he recognized about your face… I told him he’d gone mad but he swore to the stars above that you had your mother’s ears…”

“My mom… was Mary Ann  _ Lapis _ ?” Bo almost squeaked, “But… she died in the  _ morning _ and my T.O.B. was in the  _ evening _ …”

“Officially, you were  _ found _ at a Podunk clinic in Deerbrooke and must have been assigned a time of birth, in lieu of any exact information. I think… I see her in you, now,” Nivins confessed. “Mary Ann was a good soul… always did right by others though crippled from her  _ hyperatrophy _ . Oswald obsessed with finding the cure and losing her took  _ so much _ from us all…” he said, “You were awarded the scholarship for your passion and your hard work, Bo, but Oswald wanted  _ you  _ as an employee of Hexward because then… then he would have precedence to open your sealed genetic records and find out for  _ certain _ if you were her child, thought dead at birth.”

Bo took a while to collect his thoughts… but knew he had to ask, “Who was my dad?”

“ _ Not _ the ‘do-nothing’ that Magnus  _ slandered _ him as,” Nivins asserted and then exhaled slowly… mournfully as he pointed a still shaking finger at the bag of comic books. Judy was quick to retrieve one. The old rabbit took great care in examining its cover, “For as long as rabbits have known about the ‘curse’, we’ve tried to fix it,” he began, “Herbs… charms… medicines… diets… in a most drastic attempt, we tried to  _ breed _ it out.

“Hares can survive the disorder… and hybrids are born the same species as their mother but can  _ change _ in subtle, usually aesthetic ways to reflect their father if raised by his side of the family,” Nivins continued, “Hare fathers and rabbit mothers… it was a program implemented out here in Bunnyburrow that never  _ amounted _ to anything. Until Robert ‘Bertie’ Briar… he was a second generation of the program and the  _ golden _ bunny,” he reminisced, “Smart, kind, fast, hardy, even the color of his  _ fur _ … he could do no wrong and despite his  _ hyperatrophy _ , grew into a healthy adult. He wanted to help others… ‘make the world a better place’,” Nivins sadly said and looked to Judy, “So, he enrolled at the ZPD academy.”

Judy had her turn of shock. “But… all my life, I was told time and again that  _ no _ bunny’s ever been a police officer!”

Nivins stiffly nodded, “And nobunny ever  _ had _ , before  _ you _ . Some  _ tried _ … all failed… there were even  _ fatalities _ during basic training… and it was kept quiet, tucked away into an already mounting fear of the rest of the world, to protect rabbits from such a  _ dangerous _ profession and even  _ dying _ in its attempts was a forgone conclusion,” he said, heavy with regret, “Bertie Briar wouldn’t let that stop him, though. Before he enrolled… he met Mary Ann and fell in love. She was with child while he was at the academy… and suffered from a traumatic birth… most all mothers, with her condition,  _ do _ ,” Nivins choked some, “He received the news by phone a week before graduation.”

Bo and Judy exchanged startled expressions. “You said…” he then spoke up, to the older rabbit, “that ‘he might have  _ lived _ ’?”

“I sincerely believe he  _ might _ have; now knowing that you are alive,” Nivins agreed, “During his time at the academy, he was bullied and harassed by a coyote named Amelia Dunesworth. She tested his resolve day in, day out; challenged him at every turn because ‘the ZPD is no place for a bunny’. But it only made him  _ stronger _ ,” he said and allowed himself a smile, “Eventually… he won her over, became friendly rivals and then close friends, always trying to improve one another… he even wanted to name her the godmother of his firstborn child.

“Dunesworth had one more prank to send Bertie off before graduation, surely unaware of Mary Ann’s death since it only happened that morning… It…” Nivins stopped and then breathed in as Bo rubbed his back and Judy gripped his arm, “Bertie was  _ scared-to-death _ .”

Judy then looked at the comic book, “He was depressed…”

Nivins nodded forlornly. “If even a bunny as strong and healthy as Bertie Briar was susceptible, what hope was there for the rest of us?” he pleaded, “That’s when Magnus stepped in. He convinced us all that he had answers… a way to make things ‘better’. He began with Bertie Briar, or as he began to call him, ‘Briar the Trier’… and made him into a cautionary tale against the ‘dangers of trying’,” he sighed and returned the comic book to Bo, “Dunesworth confessed to mammalslaughter but she was sent through predator therapy instead of prison, blaming ‘the coyote’s shifty, trickster tendencies’. It didn’t solve a wider terror for us bunnies, though… we were  _ so _ scared to be scared-to-death that Magnus could have promised us the  _ stars _ and we would have believed him…”

“‘Fear always works’,” Judy soberly quoted, “And if it ever got out that  _ muscular hyperatrophy was _ curable if even for later generations, he might lose his control. So, those Captain Warren comics… was  _ this _ specific story actually about Bertie Briar?”

“We believe so, at least metaphorically, the similarities were  _ too much _ of a coincidence to ignore,” McTwisp explained and pulled his blanket in a bit tighter, “We investigated the ‘Tweedle Bros.’ but the search terminated in a pair of autistic wildcats in Conifer District who… were  _ hardly _ capable of operating a  _ microwave _ and spent all their time watching news reports or reading comic books… and they were dismissed since -- at the time -- they included the  _ ‘death-shriek’ _ , of all things…” he softly grumbled, “ _ Utterly _ preposterous,  _ flagrant _ hyperbole but Magnus insisted that every issue be confiscated and done away with. What a stroke of luck that some survived.

“Bo…” he then continued, looking up at the brown bunny, “I understand that this is a lot to take in… and we cannot change what happened. Sadly… there also isn’t anything  _ for _ you…” Nivins confessed, “No inheritance, no estate… it was all donated to charity in your mother’s name.”

He shrugged and smiled. “I probably would’ve done the same thing anyway.”

Nivins smiled and sighed through his nose. “I can’t help but see Mary Ann and Bertie when I look at you, now… I know Oswald would be  _ delighted _ to see you again and it would be my honor to put you in touch with the Lapises of Knotash. And,” he continued with some moniker of excitement, if still hoarse, “We will set the record straight, about Bertie Briar and everything that entails.”

“Like all the bunnies who enrolled in the academy?” Judy asked, “I know  _ I _ scoured the records but didn’t find any names.”

“Yes, certainly,” McTwisp agreed, “We, at Knotash, have a long and arduous road ahead of us… many wrongs  _ must _ be righted… the process will surely outlive me but I’ll do all in my power to ensure that it happens.” He was then quiet and cold as he wrung his paws before turning to Judy, “You have my deepest condolences for the loss to you and your family… the certain death of Reginald Hopps. What I saw tonight convinced me that Magnus is a  _ liar _ and a  _ braggart _ … but not simultaneously; he will be taken seriously in his claim of Reginald’s fate. I know there was friction between him and Stu, Judy, but he was a close friend of mine… and I believe in my heart that he still loved your father, to the very end; Hopps Manor was  _ always _ meant to go to Stu… until he left Knotash.”

Judy breathed in and out through her nose, cupped Nivins’s paws with a nod, and then smiled, “And I know Dad still loved him. Admittedly… I’m not sure how to feel about Grampa Reggie’s passing… it’s so  _ sudden _ , and I hardly knew him, really. But we…” she then looked at Bo, “apart from my parents and Magnus, we were one of the last bunnies to see him  _ alive _ ?”

“Did he say anything to you?” Nivins asked.

“He apologized for Graham hitting me with his car,” Bo said, “and that it was  _ urgent _ that he speak with Gideon.”

Judy added, “Magnus said he ‘gave him a chance’, so maybe Grampa Reggie knew what was happening with the Night Howler and tried to stop it? Maybe even all those years ago, he suspected his own son but was too afraid to say anything…”

“It was Reginald who introduced Magnus and Cleopatra to each other after Bertie chose Mary Ann over her; I don’t think she ever got past that,” Nivins opined, “In his later days -- before he retired -- he always seemed wary of them. It was no exaggeration that Reginald kept an ear over his shoulder… never said what  _ about _ but, I suppose, we might now know…” and then cleared his throat in discomfort.

“Oh, Nivins, I’m so sorry, we’ve been talking your ear off when you needed  _ rest _ ,” Judy fretted while tending to him.

“No worries at all,” the albino rabbit raspily dismissed and stood, shrugging off the trauma blanket, “Thank you for absolving an old fool… As I said, the investigation into Magnus’s activities will be  _ harrowing _ … and I can only wish that we at Knotash can aid the ZPD in uncovering and correcting  _ every _ misdeed he committed, along with all those ‘friends’ and ‘strings’ he mentioned. If you’ll excuse me,” he continued and cleared his throat once more as he adjusted his cuffs, neckwear, and then checked his pocket watch with a decisive  _ click _ , “There’s still plenty of business to do (including the repairs of that door broken on our account),” and strode off toward his team of assistants.

Judy looked to Bo as he pulled his legs closer, the blanket more like a shawl as it was tucked in around his neck and chest, ears hanging forward over his bowed head. She scooted in closer to lean on his frame. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How’re we doing?”

“Fine.”

She smirked. “You are  _ not _ fine, your ears are droopy.” Bo’s shoulders shook in a solitary chuckle. Judy’s paws folded on her brought-up legs, brushing the side of her foot with his. “Whenever you want to talk about it, I’m right here.”

Bo sighed and curled his toes together. “I always wondered who my parents were, whether they were alive; whether they wanted me… It felt like a cruel, cosmic joke that the one certainty about my life was that I was born on  _ the _ same day Mary Ann Lapis died… It felt wrong to celebrate  _ any _ thing…” he said, “I wasn’t the only bunny who got that birthday but… with everything  _ else… _ ”

Judy lifted the trauma blanket and slipped under it to hug his arm… he smiled as her dark-tipped ears brushed his. “I know there was at least one bunny that cared enough for you to hide you from Magnus… snuck you all the way out to Deerbrooke to do it, too. Now, you’ve got just about all of Bunnyburrow caring for you, too… and not because you’re Mary Ann’s child, but because you’re  _ Bo Briar _ .”

He smiled a bit sadly. “Every family I went to always promised that the  _ next _ one would be the one for me… that I’d find whom I was  _ supposed _ to be with, on account of my  _ hyperatrophy _ . That continued throughout my childhood,” he lamented, “Juju… there’s something I never told you…”

Her purple eyes shimmered and lips pursed.

“Jordan, four,” he began, “Isabelle, ten; Tori, six; Georgio, five; Herman,  _ twelve _ ; Val, eight; Menzen, two; Polly, six…” and then petered off, his eyes hazy with tears… He looked up to Judy’s concern and said, “I was shipped off to the Honey Hills with the other  _ hyperatrophic _ rabbits as a teenager… I counted their breaths, each one…”

“Bo…”

“But… I  _ lied _ when I said others in my group lived…” Bo confessed, “I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d understand… I’m sorry.”

“Bobo…” Judy consoled, touching a paw to his, “It’s not something you need to apologize for. I’ve been to funerals and wakes… it’s just part of being a rabbit. We keep living… for  _ them _ ,” she said and then continued, if a bit lower, “Do you forgive me… for not telling you about what happened with Weaselton…?”

He smiled and leaned his head down to touch his nose to hers, “I forgive you,” and wrapped an arm about her frame to hug her closer. They watched as McTwisp and his team filed into their vehicle with all of their office equipment to return to Knotash; they wouldn’t make it in time for the midnight deadline, almost upon them as it was, but such was their fortune and all they could do at that point was keep moving forward.

* * *

The Felix sat quietly, smiling as his sister was absorbed into the outside din. He sighed and shook his head, long ears swaying about. “Forgive me, Patty, but you  _ never _ would have asked for help…” He turned in address to the hard, questioning look of his nephew, “ _ Ah,  _ your mother is about to walk into the waiting arms of the Knotash Watch but won’t try to avoid them, now that she’s all gussied up. That’s just how she is, you see.

“Earlier this evening,” he continued at the perpetually imploring gaze, reclined in his seat and elbow propped on the arm of the chair, “I was put in contact with Chief Bogo of the ZPD through… a  _ complex _ series of communications. I’ve been agonizing all day about how to bring Magnus in for everything he’s done not only to  _ my _ family but all the heinous acts of his that I found out about. Our boys-&-girls-in-blue are already  _ well _ aware of what he’s been up to and just need the proof,” he humbly boasted, “Esther, Judy, and Nick paved  _ that _ road and since he put all of his information on the Hexward servers --  _ my _ servers -- I am in my full right to turn them over… they’re still behind firewalls that would make the national military  _ green _ with envy, though.

“Fortunately, the ZPD has some ‘computer security specialists’ of their own helping in that regard and we only need four of the six voice-keys to open it,” and then counted it off on his fingers, “Mine, Judy’s… and I’m hoping  _ you’ll _ help us, as well?” Oswald’s eyes brightened when his nephew answered  **Yes, please** , “Excellent! That just leaves one missing voice-key: Patty’s. I feel terrible about it, but… I also feel terrible for not confronting Magnus about how he treated her all those years ago, her defense of him notwithstanding. So… I’m putting her in touch with the Watch. Out of love… because I know, deep down, she wants to stop him, too.

“It’ll be a while still before we bring  _ every _ thing of his in…” Oswald admitted, “He’s got shell companies from coast-to-coast…  Dr. Henry Howard’s Homes just to name  _ one _ ,” and then shuddered, “What a  _ nightmare _ this turned out to be.” His cellphone chirped. “Excuse me,” he bid and slipped a paw into his jacket to examine the message, the screen unlocking as his face lit up with not only the electronic glow, “Speak of the devil…” Oswald mused, “I’d give that Ms. Grey a promotion if I could; she, Judy, and Nick didn’t merely pave the way, they put down  _ train tracks _ .”

Graham’s output screen flickered with a cursor as he gathered what strength remained in him to type  **Good foxes** and then revert to binary responses once more.

Oswald chuckled, “ _ And _ a bunny.”

**Yes, please** .

“Get some rest, Graham,” his uncle said with a smile, rising from his seat to adjust both jacket and tie on his way around the bed, towards the door, “We’ll work on that voice-key tomorrow.”

**Yes, please** .

“Would you like me to fetch the nurse?”

**No, thank you** .

Oswald turned out the light and exited into the quieter din outside. Graham relaxed in the darkness, looking up at the ceiling cast with shadows from the glow of his many medical machines and traction hardware. It  _ had _ been a long day but his “father” -- for lack of a better term -- was to face justice, at long last… it took Graham all of his cunning to bait his “old bun” out of his sanctum. Communication with the two guards he knew he could trust was limited, especially with his mother nearby -- she would be the first to raise an alarm -- but just as his uncle explained,  _ Clea _ was vain enough to keep up her appearance even if she spent all day in his hospital room. Ultimately, her touch-up habit was too easily exploited when the noise of his keyboard was muted. Ultimately… it worked.

Like in his  _ own _ ending for Sir Norton, the noble rabbit lived to enjoy the fruits of his labor and sacrifice… that he might finally know something more than an omnipotent monster lurking over his shoulder at every turn… that he might be better than the bunny he’d become. Sleep,  _ deep _ and  _ quiet _ , embraced Graham for the first time since he wished over Judy’s reposed form when it was brought to Hopps Manor… a wish that the just path was not so wrought with thorns… In his final thoughts that night, he considered the folly of such a wish… for it was the  _ Abyss _ that was a pit lined with thorns and the just path was simply the way out; just so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Judy's inner turmoil over what happened with Duke Weaselton is an idea compiled by NievetheLion (which I helped with) and used in greater depth in his own story.
> 
> [“I’ve got about… twelve percent of a plan.” // “Well, it’s more than eleven,” he reasoned.] comes from Guardians of the Galaxy.  
> Graham’s hallucinatory appearance and his “Candleflame” nickname for Judy reflect back to his tuxedo and their interaction in Brave, chapter 25, along with Judy’s claim of “You know who Bo’s parents are”.
> 
> [‘serial killer without the body count’] is how Graham/Grav describes Magnus back in Brave, chapter 3. And, yes, Graham/Grav was being ironic since no one’s ever caught any of Magnus’s murders.
> 
> When Magnus calls Judy a “doe”, he’s referring to her as a female rabbit as a “buck” is a male rabbit.
> 
> [And that it was urgent that he speak with Gideon] refers back to phone call between Bo and Gideon back in Brave, chapter 11.  
> ‘Dr. Henry Howard’s Homes’ refers to Brave, chapter 24 and is a reference to Dr. H. H. Holmes, one of America’s first and worst serial killers, whose iconic method was to welcome guests (exclusively women) into a hotel of death wherein they were stolen away through secret passages and horrifically murdered. This reflects on Magnus and something mentioned in Brave, chapter 25 about how the architect ‘Dr. Henry Howard’ worked the on Hopps Manor which had any number of secrets hidden in the walls.
> 
> [on your haunches and grab your ears] This is the equivalent of "on your knees, hands behind your head". Animals tend not to rest too much weight on their knees, what with their elongated feet, so a less advantageous position would be to squat fully on one's haunches with their center of gravity squarely over their heels, rather than their toes (note how Nick squats down in the ice cream parlor in the movie). That’s not to say that mammals don't utilize their knees in the same way (of note, when Judy find polar bear fur in Mr. Big's car). This would differ with pachyderms and other large prey species whose legs have a more pronounced knee. In the case of rabbits, grabbing one's ears keeps their paws in plain view and also restricts their auditory perception.
> 
> Bertie Briar and Dunesworth are both characters I created for an earlier fanfiction of mine, "Scared to Death", a short conversation between Judy and Bogo about why he reins her in at the precinct (a conversation which doesn't happen in this story… I mean… not in that exact way); I’ve borrowed some concepts from that story for this one. Until now, Dunesworth was male and didn't have a first name, but I made the coyote female to reflect the rabbit/fox relationship Judy and Nick have, except with hare/coyote.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Author’s Note: these multiple scenes bounce back and forth between the Wednesday and Thursday following the events of the chapter, arranged for literary aesthetics and how they connect between each scene.]

**_This is ZNN_ **

_ “Good evening, I’m Fabienne Growley.” _

_ “And I’m Peter Moosebridge.” _

_ “Our top story tonight is the arrest of infamous Pred-Scare sniper, Doug Ramses, whose whereabouts over the past year were unknown until he resurfaced at the Tri-Burrow Reunion on Monday. Sheriff Rachel Longmare released a statement earlier today about his activities:” _

_ “…As of this moment, we can say with certainty that Ramses was set to cause trouble at the TBR by means of a new Night Howler drug snuck into the whipped cream at the pie-eating contest. Thankfully, a dual effort of the sheriff’s office and the ZPD stopped a possible repeat of the Pred-Scare from a year ago…” _

_ “Sheriff Longmare goes on to explain that the new drug was a product of noted food processor and philotherian, Magnus Hopps, who hired Ramses to develop the drug and test it at the TBR. Hopps was arrested last night in Bunnyburrow after assaulting House of Blessings representative, Nivins McTwisp, and is being held without bail pending an investigation. Felix Oswald Lapis has come forward in full cooperation with the ZPD to turn over all information in his possession on Hopps:” _

_ “…This is a meteoric shock not only to Knotash, and not only to bunnies all over the city but mammals everywhere. I’ve known Magnus for years, he’s my brother-in-law, and to find out everything he’s been up to… it’s hard to believe, to say the least. But then I found his secret partition in the servers of Knotash, which might as well be a brick through the window, signed ‘I did it’. And if it wasn’t enough that he admitted to hiring his own father’s assassination… excuse me… no, thank you, I’m fine… but there was also a video of him practically pushing a rabbit out a window… gleefully! And that’s just what we found in the last two days…” _

_ “‘Meteoric’, indeed. Reginald Hopps has long been a pillar of the rabbit community in Zootopia and his passing will surely be felt by many.” _

* * *

**_*bzzt*_ **

Magnus tossed the remote onto the bed beside him and hunched over, alone in the dimly lit cell with the light from beneath the steel door reflecting off his eyes and scarlet-stained paws. He played along so far as to get into the orange jumpsuit. And into the holding cells. And locked up… it was when the larger mammals got too close that he couldn’t abide them. That’s when fingers were snapped. Hooves, cracked. Wrists, broken. Magnus was knuckles-deep inside someone’s arm and wringing the artery before the guards requested he stop… at least he didn’t have to bleach his fur to hide the blood anymore. At least he didn’t have to  _ pretend _ anymore… and how  _ freeing _ it felt.

When was the last time he  _ really _ got to hear a heartbeat reach a frightened pitch? He didn’t get to hear it stop that time, though… that abrupt cease would have been a climactic duet with the lungs breathing their last… His ears sprung at someone outside the cell, the shadow of feet there only for an instant before something slid through the tray chute and stopped a few inches from the rabbit’s toes. It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Magnus watched it illuminate his austere cell, bathing all in ghastly blue, vibrating as though some miniature lightning storm thundered  _ all _ for  _ him _ .

The phone stopped. And then it rang again.

And again.

And again.

He stood up from his seat and over the phone, hunching down to examine it as one would a spider, a snake, or a millipede. It stopped ringing. And started again as he picked it up, returned to the bed, and sat down to flick it open before the final ring.

“Magsy,  _ there _ you are.”

“Foxy,” Magnus answered, “how kind of you to call, I was beginning to wonder how long they’d let me stew in my own abject terror. Thank you for the TV, by the way, it only gets one channel and I hate it. When can I expect to get out of here?”

The fox on the other end of the call laughed. “You  _ won’t _ because you messed up  _ big _ time, old bun. You and your little tantrum burned everything to the ground and  _ they _ aren’t happy about it.”

“Well  _ gawrsh _ , I guess that makes me the ‘pound of flesh’?” Magnus chuckled, “Quaint, but don’t mince words with  _ me _ , everyone knows that I know who  _ they _ are; all of them. I know their families, their businesses,  _ everything  _ they care about… and I know everything  _ you _ care about so let’s try this again: When can I expect to get out of here?”

“…Eventually,” he growled and then cooed, “ _ But _ I wouldn’t hold my breath. You might not stay in that cell but you’ll  _ never _ run anything  _ ever _ again. Remember when you called me an ‘over-glorified paper pusher’? Guess who’s at the bottom of the totem pole  _ now _ ?”

Magnus sneered as his fist tightened around the phone. “Watch yourself, fox.”

“Fox _ y _ ,” he clarified, “And you can’t touch me. Quote: ‘Undermine the faith of the masses in their leaders’, unquote. All those funny little bunnies you had by the ears all  _ hate _ you now, and I know  _ exactly  _ how to tug their strings with none of them the wiser.”

“Quote: ‘By use of flattery, insignificant mammals can be made to look upon themselves as born leaders,’ unquote,” Magnus retorted, “Don’t flatter yourself into thinking you can take  _ any _ thing of mine.”

“Oh…” the fox taunted, “I can think of  _ one _ thing…”

“…You would  _ dare _ take credit for all of  _ my _ planning and  _ my _ sacrifice!”

“Every ounce of it, old bun, and it’s been  _ ages _ in the making,” Foxy snickered, “ _ Years _ under your thumb because you blew up Honest John for me but don’t kid yourself, I was biding my time. So…  _ thanks _ for the foot in the door, Magsy! I’ll be sure to give everyone at Pleasure Island your regards.”

Magnus’s eyes darkened as laughter -- high and mocking -- rang through the phone until he could stand it no longer and snapped it shut. “Foxes… it’s always  _ foxes… _ ” he growled, plagued with the memory of Nick Wilde, “ _ Johnson. _ ” The rabbit vaulted from his bed, bellowing in unmitigated rage as he hoisted the television set overhead to demolish it against the cell floor. The knuckles in his paws cracked as they balled into fists, chest rising and falling with each breath. “ _ No _ one can take what’s  _ mine _ .”

* * *

**_ZHKNA, “No Worries” Radio~_ **

_ “Good morning in the morning, Zootopia, you’re on air with Tim O’Nare.” _

_ “And talking big with Mr. Pigg. Perk your coffee and butter your toast because we’ve got a lot to get into today.” _

_ “Far more than you’d expect for a Thursday. Like, how about this Magnus mook? I’m sure everyone’s, at least, seen his food byproducts sitting in the back of the freezer section of your local grocery store, but has anyone really met this guy? Take a few seconds to zoogle ‘Magnus Hopps’ -- be sure to text-&-drive responsibly, folks -- and let me know what comes up. Bob, how about you, what did you glean from a cursory glance?” _

_ “Well, it brought up the dictionary definition for ‘psychopath’, ‘supervillain’, and ‘CEO’. I’ll be honest, I’m surprised this guy isn’t in real estate -- wait, turns out he owns an upscale housing company under a false name. Yep, that checks all the boxes.” _

_ “Yeesh, every layer we peel back on this onion just makes me cry more and more. And speaking of crying, let’s hop on over to last night Knotash and a press release from Magnus’s wife. Have a listen:” _

_ “…For too many years, I have been kept silent… and afraid… not only for myself and my son but all my children… I was not strong enough to come forward, but by the love of my brother I found the will to speak up… Magnus… you can’t hurt me anymore!…” _

_ “Wow… that’s some powerful stuff… I really don’t know what else this guy is capable of…” _

_ “You said it, Bob. For those of you who haven’t seen the video, we’ve got Clea Hopps here on the verge of tears, and then engulfed in tears, and then it looks like she peels back her face-” _

_ “That’s because she’s an albino, Tim; let’s not be insensitive.” _

_ “Absolutely, and our many albino listeners will understand me when I say that she dyes her fur on a regular basis; that’s what I’m getting at.” _

_ “More to the point, she used the fur dye to hide bruising on the side of her face. Except in this clip, she revealed it to the whole world.” _

_ “And just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Magnus was brought in for weaponizing pies. Pies!” _

_ “And whipped cream! Is there no end to this guy’s depravity…” _

_ “Suffice to say, social media is ablaze. Especially when you’ve got this guy in cahoots with… someone who deserves even less introduction: Doug Ramses.” _

_ “Brrr… I still get the shakes thinking about him…” _

_ “I’d say he needs no conclusion, either, so let’s move right along in this thread of woolly news. For the first time in over thirty years, our southern neighbors will be visiting Zootopia for the quinceañera of the youngest Supai, Yzla.” _

_ “A ‘quinceañera’?” _

_ “It’s like a sweet-sixteen party if the daughter were born one year later. C’mon, Bob, try and keep up.” _

_ “Sounds like a big deal.” _

_ “You’ve always had a talent for understatements, my friend because word is that Gazelle’s performing at this posh, private little shindig.” _

_ “Wait a minute; I thought Gazelle was performing at the Luau this year…? It took months to book her!” _

_ “Gosh darn it, Bob, you’ve always been terrible at keeping secrets…” _

_ “Sorry…” _

_ “Well, cat’s out of the bag on this one, Zootopia, so I might as well capitalize on this timely slip of the tongue. It’s that time of year for the ‘Dress in Drag and Do the Hula’ Luau for Lost Youngin’s, and this time we’ll be auctioning off tickets to dance on stage with Gazelle and the Tigritos-” _

_ “Holy smokes; this is a chance of a lifetime!” _

_ “Well, we needed something to out-do the Tri-Burrow Reunion. Heck, I’m tempted to swipe one of these tickets myself but this is all for charity and the King family would be super cross with me if I did since they’re the ones who keep this Luau going every year (for some reason).” _

_ “Come on, Tim, the Kings are one of the most charitable families on this seaboard. They were one of the few that opened up business relations with Reino del Sol all those years ago, you know, really helped the country enter into the first world.” _

_ “Alright, buddy, you sold me, but in all seriousness, Memphis and Sarah are some of the nicest lions I ever met. I’m not sure where this city would be without them.” _

_ “And what about Tycho?” _

_ “‘Eh.” _

_ “Tim…” _

_ “What; any livelier and the guy might break out into a eulogy.” _

* * *

Judy Hopps sat amongst her relatives, both nuclear and extended, out in one of the back fields of the farm; several other families were also spread about, each with their ears erected to the burnt orange of the late Wednesday sky. Bo sat with her, watching as Stu stood in black garb next to a photograph of the departed Reginald Hopps.

“They recovered his body,” he began, fighting back the choke in his throat, “It… it wasn’t in the best condition, so it’ll be returned to Knotash to be fixed up for an open-casket ceremony soon enough. My dad… we didn’t always get along, and after he dropped out of touch over the last few years… and meeting him again on Sunday… I regret not forgiving him… for not talking with him. One of his last words to me was that he never felt more at peace than when he was out here. As some of you may remember, he actually helped with a harvest one year,” Stu chuckled and was agreed with by a quiet, respectful response, “The Hopps Manor will be going to Grav…  _ Graham _ as soon as he gets out of the hospital… so there’s nothing I have to worry about with that.

“I think… I  _ feel _ in my heart that Dad always wanted to be out here… that’s why it would be best if he, in proper bunny tradition, be buried amongst our crops, that his body be returned to the soil it came from; I’ve already gotten Pop-Pop’s blessing, and Clea’s blessing, too,” Stu said, “So we’ll have ourselves a proper memorial for him in that time. Thank you for coming out, everybunny.” Bonnie came up to touch his arm and shoulder, and then gently touch their foreheads; the crowd of relatives thumped their feet into the dirt to cause an ankle-high cloud that succinctly settled.

“Let us not forget,” Bonnie then added as the thumping quieted, “that we are all joined here, at this time in remembrance of bunnies all over the world, for all those that came before us, live alongside us, and to those who come after us. Reggie will always be in our hearts… so it is on us to keep his memory and wishes alive. Blest be.”

“Blest be,” the bunnies responded.

“Blest be,” Judy soberly answered. She stayed behind as everybunny else folded chairs and readied for the cleaning up and settling down of the day; it wasn’t the same ecstatic havoc of Tuesday morning. Judy and Bo were actually over at the Greys’ house earlier since it was already past midnight, so advised to stay in Preds’ Corner by Judy’s parents. They woke up to an amazing pancake breakfast (as well as a house full of foxes, one lion, and a wolf) but kept their chins up the entire time. After it all, Judy finally had the peace of mind to let her parents know they were on their way home… that was when she found out that McTwisp had already contacted them about Grandpa Reggie… He, perhaps in a gesture of recompense, had covered for them and their “trying times”, and so Judy received comfort rather than scolding. Judy was thankful for it.

“Are you ready?” Bo asked her after returning inside and packing up their things, the hustle and bustle of an extended bunny family in full force once more, with by far more sobriety.

“Yep,” she decided, luggage in paw, “Madge gave me a clean bill of health and Bogo’s okayed me to for duty, starting Friday. The question is… are  _ you _ ready?”

Bo flexed with confidence. “I still have a lot to decide… I want to meet with the Lapises in Knotash before coming out about who I am… I’ve already given my badge back to Sheriff Longmare since the emergency is over, and Phil said he’ll start my training when I get back from the city.”

“Zootopia’s a big place for such a little bunny,” she teased.

“Maybe,” he grinned, “but I’ve got you with me, so I think I’ll make it.”

“Hey, guys,” said a low voice, long ears and round head poking around a corner, the splotches of his orange and white fur quite evident.

“Hi Fat Frank,” greeted Judy, “what’s up?”

“Pop-Pop wants to see you; says it’s important,” the rotund rabbit reported with a thumb tossed over his shoulder, and then disappeared again with his heavy footfall.

She sighed and smiled softly.

“It’s probably nothing,” Bo consoled.

“He  _ did _ say it was ‘important’.”

“He says knocking on wood is ‘important’.”

Judy shot him a playfully indignant look. “The train doesn’t leave until later, so we have plenty of time to hear what Pop-Pop wants to tell me,” she said.

“Want me to come with?”

“ _ Please _ . With any luck, he’ll forget why he called us and we can be on our way.”

* * *

The trees and telephone poles rolled by, the occasional semi-truck or minivan joining Lanny on the open road of the Zootopia Sound Highway.

“Nose finally cleared up, huh?” his imaginary passenger asked, the glowing, blue fox named ‘Dawson’ having shrunk to the size of an action figure and stood comfortably on the lion’s dashboard (if in a grass skirt, flowery lei, and ukulele, hips gently bobbing with the motion of the truck).

Lanny freely breathed through both nostrils. “Only  _ after _ Gideon made pancakes,” he softly grumbled if smiling, glancing over to the carry-out container next to him (along with a small bag of tissues, red with the coagulated blood he managed to dislodge from his sinuses), “But you know what… maybe it’s time to stop for lunch.” 

“I see a clearing over there that should fit your truck,” Dawson pointed out, directing through the windshield, “Do you plan to put on a shirt?”

“Nah,” the lion dismissed and scratched his bare chest, “I finally got a whiff of my own laundry…  _ this _ shirt wasn’t so bad but I think the foxes were grateful that I volunteered to sleep out under a canopy last night…”

“Summer ni~ghts… in Bunnyburr~ow…” the small blue fox sang (poorly), dressed instead as legendary lounge crooner Sam Wild and spinning a microphone around. “They at least didn’t say anything about it. So, Champ, you’ve got a lot of thinking to do between here and the city.”

“I  _ really _ do,” Lanny agreed as he pulled into a lookout spot over the Sound, killing the engine and opening the windows before picking up the syrupy, buttery pancakes and breathing in their rich aroma,  _ Still warm… _ and then opened the box and took up the plastic fork he was provided with. “I really like the idea of working out in Preds’ Corner but I can’t just burn bridges like that,” he pondered around mouthfuls of pancake.

“ _ But _ ,” the hallucinatory fox countered, “If you  _ accept _ the hospice position and are immediately  _ fired _ \-- as you wholly suspect will happen because the old guy is a loony -- you can leave without any guilt, ‘You tried your best’, and move on without worries.”

“ _ And _ it’ll give me a chance to wrap up things at the docks, like find another alpha for the pride there, if my uncle doesn’t want the position again,” Lanny then concluded and licked his syrupy lips, “Foolproof.” He then extended his fist to the glowing, blue fox, to which he received a hearty fistbump, “Y’know… I’m gonna miss you when you go away.”

Dawson groaned dismissively and endearingly. “You don’t need  _ me _ , Sport, you’ve got plenty of  _ real _ friends.”

“I’d still like to know who you are before you disappear.”

“Could always ask John to do that memory thing on you,” the tiny fox suggested, “Esther said it worked for  _ her _ and she didn’t even know about it.”

“Yeah… I probably would’ve done it last night if not for my… hygiene situation…” he awkwardly lamented while gnawing on the plastic fork.

“Oh, you don’t smell  _ that _ bad.”

“And… I was afraid of what I’d find. I think… I think it’d be better to see what Nick can dig up with  _ his _ efforts before going into some kind of… hypnosis therapy. Plus, what if I started screaming or roaring and fly completely off the rails because of a repressed memory?” the lion rationalized, “No, it’s better to approach this  _ carefully _ , right? Dawson?” Lanny looked about for the tiny blue fox and then squinted his eyes at the tinier wisp of light on the very end of his nose. “Oh, there you are. I guess you’re heading out, then?”

“I’m ri-ght here, S-on, don’t wor-ry,” he said in that strange, broken speech. And then he was gone.

Lanny’s ears swiveled and eyes scanned, but the glowing blue fox was nowhere around. His absence was felt for but a moment, as the lion then laughed so his chest and shoulders shook, before scoffing in all due playfulness, “ _ Foxes _ .” He then put the sticky box inside of a plastic bag and started up his truck again to continue his return to the city, softly singing, “Summer ni~ghts… on the oas~is… reflect for me~… your starlit ey~es… even as the sun ris~es… we’ll always ha~ve… those lo~ng… summer ni~ghts…”

* * *

_ “Dear vlogosphere, _

_ “We’ll keep this entry short and sweet since I’m visiting with family out in the country. Now, I know what you’re all thinking, ‘Esther, visiting family is  _ so _ boring’, to which I would look at other vloggers and wholeheartedly agree, but unlike all you lucky (or  _ un _ lucky) mamms out there, I grew up without a lot of cousins or siblings. _

_ “We had other fox families in the area -- call-out to the Tweeds! -- but, as you already know about me, Pa’s side is off in a foreign land while Ma’s side… well, they’ve never really been around… until last night! I met two of my uncles ( _ step _ -uncles, technically speaking, not related by blood, we’ll go ahead and clarify that upfront,  _ thank _ you) and some of my cousins (step-cousins…?), but let’s talk about Uncle John and his mate, Aunt Jackie, first. _

_ “Where to begin with him… how about a plug for his business? He’s a tailor, owns a little shop in Conifer District called ‘Suitopia’ (I know, right? I’ll share a link to his FuzzBook later; spread the love!) and as you can guess, he’s a fellow farm-fox but you’d never know it by talking with him, he just  _ sounds _ like a city-fox; and to all my city-fox lovelies out there, you know exactly what I’m talking about~ Alright, so here’s the big reveal: their son is -- drumroll,  _ please _ \-- Officer Nick Wilde (yep, he took his mate’s name; how modern!). Now it makes sense what I pointed out about  _ step _ -uncles, right? I really dodged a bullet on that one… _

_ “Why bring that up at all, you ask? Well, as some of my closest friends know, Nick and I have been… sort of courting each other on-and-off over the past few months (for those of you just tuning in, check out one of my earlier posts about fox courtships) so imagine my complete and utter  _ shock _ to find none else but Nick Wilde staying with my brother for the TBR. I’ll be honest, gang, this whole dance-of-avoidance we were doing felt just a  _ little _ one-sided so while I was blown away by his sweet tail in a police uniform… I must confess that I was beginning to doubt if he really felt the same way about me… _

_ “And then this weekend happened. I can’t go into details (upstanding student of the law that I am) but I  _ can _ say that Nick and I were in something of a ‘Mr. & Mrs. Fox’ situation where we ended up saving each other from an ill fate… You know me, I’m as hopeless a romantic as they come but I never bought into those old stories, not really… ‘How quaint, fate brings them together and they fall in love, la-dee-da’, is what I’d say… Well, my fellow cynics, forgive me but I got a  _ very  _ convincing counter-argument~ _

_ “I think it runs in his family because  _ his _ parents, John and Jackie, met in similar circumstances. Uncle John was fresh off the train with less than two dollars in his pocket and gave Aunt Jackie a single red rose as his favor… after fighting off a  _ singular _ bunch of thugs. Only one petal of the rose remains today but she had it preserved in a locket and here’s the clincher: it was a red rose with white tips. Aww~! It’s great to see such old-timey romances lasting for so long. And… forgive me, my fellow single vixens, but I accepted Nick’s favor just last night~” _

_ “Ta-da! I don’t know where he found a tiny, ceramic robin with a crown but he did, and I love it. And yes, it  _ is _ supposed to resemble a certain tattoo~ ‘Hail the King Robin’, y’all. _

_“Alright, so, my other step-uncle, Uncle Corbin, a real mysterious tod. I got to meet his niece and nephew, and my goodness, the tension was_ thick _last night… not between them, sorry, but him and Uncle John. They kept calling each other their kithood nicknames -- the ones used to annoy, you know? -- but then they started treating each other like adults and it was just the most heartwarming thing because they embraced and licked each other’s cheeks, ‘As siblings_ _should’, like Ma would say. I think they’ll be happy to get back in touch with each other._

_ “Oof, I said this would be short but I hope it’s still sweet… _

_ “I met with my bestest best friend Judy again last night, which was something of a surprise because I was sure she had lots of bunny family business to take care of. Not that I would ever complain to see Judy, she introduced me to Nick after all, but she and Bo -- her bun-boy -- came around to get his shirt fixed. Bo’s been on a… waiting list for me, you could say. I like him, he’s nice and all that but he always seemed… like every  _ other _ farm-bunny I ever met (with the obvious exception of Judy). Always trying too hard to get along and yet, has this nasty habit of letting slip some backhanded comment… meant with the ‘best of intentions’, of course. _

_ “And then I found out something  _ huge _ about him, something that struck to the very core of my being… I won’t say what it is, you understand, but know that this is something that could  _ define _ you as an individual and  _ he _ only found out about it last night! I’ve known about mine almost my whole life, but poor Bo… he came to me for advice on how to deal with that revelation… It was the first time I felt like I really…  _ clicked _ with him, you know? Those of you with bunny-friends, or really,  _ any _ one with prey friends will understand how it feels to connect with them on an emotional level. Suffice to say; yesterday’s been a tidal wave of emotions. And I haven’t even gotten to the biggest one yet… _

_ “Literally, the  _ biggest _ one is this sweetheart named ‘Lanny’, newly befriended by Nick and Giddy. He’s a lion and knows about me from the Lionheart Trial. Yeah, let that sink in. Turns out he was on Leodore’s side which was such a relief… as some of you might know, I’ve gotten some flak for defending the former mayor; those that actually recognized me, of course. Every time I think I’ve gotten away from that whole thing, it decides to crop up again… Guess I should stop pretending it was some debacle and just stick that feather in my cap; I’ve already been commended for it twice today, after all… Oh, who was the first time? That’s my little secret~ _

_ “Speaking of Giddy, I have some great news for everyone: remember that pie-eating contest I told you about? It went a _ maz _ ingly, and the funniest thing is, both Bo and Nick were in it! Nick won first prize and Bo won second. Turns out Lanny was also there but he didn’t participate (I think that would’ve been an unfair advantage). So, ‘congrats and all that’, I hear you say but here’s the best part: Bo has this tractor-pull competition he does at Carrot Days and did at the TBR. Well, guess who was  _ also _ in it? No, not Lanny (again, unfair advantage). Not Nick, either. It was Giddy! _

_ “I was  _ so _ surprised to hear that, but am  _ so _ proud of my baby brother; we all are. Giddy’s never been the athletic type and he’s always had a lot of self-doubt, so he never takes off his shirt around others, ever since he was a teenager. Well, somehow Nick convinced him to not only pull that tractor but did so with _ out _ a shirt,  _ and _ he won first prize against Bo! Bo might be a bunny but he’s one strong carrot-farmer, so don’t discount baby bro’s big, blue ribbon. _

_ “And if I might segue into one more bit of sweetness, I found out today that a good friend and neighbor of mine, Lory, was  _ at _ the tractor-pull competition. ‘Okay, so?’ you’re wondering, well, Lory and Giddy were part of this outdated ‘arranged marriage’ kind of deal our Pas tried, to settle old grievances between our families. They were only kits at the time so it didn’t pan out and blah-blah-blah. But hey, turns out Lory was maybe just a  _ little _ bit wooed by Giddy’s performance at the tractor-pull. Wish him luck! _

_ “And I’m definitely smelling pancakes, so let’s go ahead and wrap this up with one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen: this is Nick, deep in slumber… look how his claws twitch! And that smile~ I never see this smile when he’s awake, only when he’s dreaming… otherwise, he just smirks or grins with a thousand different ways to snark at the world… But this smile… it feels like he doesn’t yet know how the world views foxes, like everything’s the best it could possibly be… I just want to see that smile all the time… _

_ “You know what… memo to self: keep this vlog private but share Nick’s smile with Jackie… and Judy, too, she’ll get a kick out of it~” _

* * *

“She really is beautiful,” Corbin admitted to his brother John as they lounged atop the roof of the Grey house in the witching hours of Wednesday morning.

“Who, Jackie or Zootopia?” John asked, looking out over the landscape to the shimmering aurora in the distance, tucked away behind the mountain.

Corbin chuckled, “Let’s go with ‘both’.”

“Smart answer,” he said and shared in a laugh, “I’ll bet it’s a relief to spend a night inside, assuming the Scouts are as they’ve always been, capable of sleeping in nearly any wilderness (so long as it includes trees).”

A low sigh escaped his lips. “Sadly, that won’t be for us.”

“Why not?”

He tapped his visor. “Not enough time.”

“You must be exhausted, though.”

It was Corbin’s turn to boast a leer. “Scouts of the Knottedwood have changed since you left, little brother; we can run for days on end without resting. Our only limitation is how long these ironroots last.”

“Cory, that’s no way to live. Just tough out the affliction; it’s only a few minutes of screaming, flailing, and bloody pain, but after that? Easy street,” John suggested with a lazy slice of his paw through the air.

“Trust me, I’ve  _ tried _ , but maybe you’re just made of tougher stuff,” he confessed.

John softly moaned his appreciation, “How sweet of you to say.”

“I’m fairly certain Death gave up on you long ago,” Corbin laughed.

“Every time ‘Jacky Savage’ or ‘John Wilde’ comes down the tube, it’s an immediate ‘Send back to sender’,” John merrily agreed, “So what have you, Becky, and Jeri been doing this entire time?”

“Dealing with bunnies, actually.”

“You, too?”

“They’ve been all over Bunnyburrow, and I don’t just mean the farmers,” he clarified, “There were spies  _ every _ where; couldn’t swing a sack of rocks without hitting one…” Corbin then sat up and opened his coat, pulling back his shirt and lifting some shaggy fur on his chest, “I got this beauty of a burn mark from one that shot me on Saturday. Jericho’s arm is recovering after it was nearly broken and Rebecca’s still sore after getting hit in the head with a brick. Never thought bunnies could be so violent…”

John rubbed his chin in sympathy. “I had noticed they were both carrying themselves a bit oddly…”

Corbin then chuckled. “No need to worry about us, John, we are Scouts, after all, our stuff is plenty tough.”

He huffed with a grin and a quirked brow. “Have you actually made it to the city?”

“I was there recently, as it so happens, keeping a bead on Nick… he came out here and we decided it was time for us to follow,” Corbin said and lay his head back down on folded paws, one leg crossed over the other, “We were on this one lead that seemed to be connected to him, whispers about the Supais.”

John sprung upright. “You knew about them?”

“Only the name for they are some of the most volatile information we’ve ever come across. Brother,” Corbin continued, also sitting up, “I know they are the reason that Goliath and Esther escaped north… and there was a reason I wanted to talk with you tonight; alone. I was hesitant but, by Aslan’s guiding paw, I am thrust into your company.”

“Don’t need to be so dramatic about it.”

“I’m being serious,” he glared at the rolling eyes, “The whispers we heard made so little sense they were hardly worth holding on to but I suspect it’s a good thing I  _ did _ .”

“Enough teasing, Cory, you already have my attention.”

Corbin scoffed. “You’re much more involved in this battle than I am, John, so I wanted to pass this by you, first. Nick and Esther were courting these past months (I think) and by observing  _ him _ we chanced on chatter about  _ her _ … calling her a ‘pet robin’.”

John’s eyes went wide… and then eyebrows quirked. “When Nicky gave her that ceramic robin as his favor… you  _ weren’t _ just in awe, you were connecting the dots.”

“Especially when I found out that she had a tattoo of a robin…  _ some _ where?”

“You can ask them about that  _ yourself _ .”

“No, thank you,” Corbin kindly snorted, “Anyway, I think the ‘robin’ that the Supais are after might be referring to Esther… it’s a stretch, but I know you’d be the fox to tell this to.”

John pondered. “It’s possible that they found her during the Lionheart Trial last year, and then traced her purchase of the robin tattoo. I’ll bring it up with her tomorrow. They’re fast asleep right now and I wouldn’t want to wake them. I should get some sleep, too, both Jackie and I have actual obligations and jobs to get back to tomorrow,” he leered.

Corbin laughed dryly. “Yes, while Rebecca, Jericho and I only have to run back to the Knottedwood before our brains melt out of our ears.”

A heavy exhale responded first, “Honestly, that sounds  _ much _ more preferable to some clients I know I’ll have to deal with tomorrow…”

* * *

The oven warmed with its mechanical rumble. Water poured over the pastry chef’s paws to wash them clean. Flour and sugar and eggs and cream were mixed, beaten, kneaded, rolled, cut, and shaped to contain fruit, nuts, and meats of all kinds. Gideon had expected his Wednesday to be like his Tuesday, devoid of customers, until he got a call from a neighbor about clientele asking about “Gideon Grey’s Really Good Baked Stuffs”. “Publicity is what it is” Nick answered of his cousin’s incredulity for not only had he gained notice from the pie-eating contest but also the proximity of Tad’s pawn shop and all its infamy… and not to mention the hearsay of  _ whom _ Doug Ramses shot at. It was not what Gideon had wanted to be known for… but it brought attention all the same, and “Perhaps it’ll help in what you  _ really _ want to be known for?” Judy suggested.

Come Thursday, pies, cookies, and cakes were flying off the shelves almost as soon as Gideon could bake them. His shop was full but there were still deliveries to be made… So, he called a new friend with a scooter, Lory Mallupe, to shoulder the task of getting those orders to where they needed to be. It was a busy two days for them both but at the end of it all, they felt accomplished in all they’d done.

“A’ight, Lory, that was the last one,” Gideon said after bidding a farewell to the final customers and sauntering into the kitchen with a mixture of exhaustion, elation, and pride. “Jumpin’ Jehowlsephat, I ain’t  _ ever _ had so many!” he declared, stepping outside when he heard the motor of her scooter-bike die down but then asked of the wolf, when he heard a soft sniffling, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s… it’s nothing,” she attempted, “I’m fine…”

Gideon frowned his concern… but also his empathy. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, I won’t press ya’… but like you heard my Uncle John say last night, it’s better to get your troubles and secrets out in the open, rather than someone else do it for ya’.”

Lory couldn’t help but giggle. “That’s not how he put it, Gid, but I hear what you mean. It’s just… I’m worried about Mack,” she said, pulling out her phone, “He sent me this text message but hasn’t responded to any of  _ mine _ … he normally does go silent but… I don’t know, it  _ feels _ diff’rent…”

“Nick  _ did _ mention he’d pop in for a visit yesterday…”

“But it’s already the day after!” the wolf worried and plopped down next to her bike, “He says ‘I left it here’ and then  _ nothing _ .”

“He left what where?”

“Exactly!” Lory fretted, tilting her phone to show a photograph attachment to Gideon.

“Is that, like, a P.O. box or something?” he wondered.

The wolf’s head shook, sleek mane bouncing about as she did. “That’s what  _ I _ thought at first, but then I asked Jaguardo about it because he’s such a knowledgeable guy, and  _ he _ said it’s a safety deposit box…”

“Well, how ‘bout we go there and pick up whatever he left for ya’?” Gideon suggested, smiling as he did.

“Oh…” she moaned, “Tha’s sweet of you, Gid, but I was about to mention that it’s in the  _ city _ …”

Gideon grunted. “I  _ see _ … well, I’m not about to go back on my word because of a little  _ inconvenience _ like that,” he articulated.

Lory’s eyes brightened. “ _ Really? _ I s’pose since I have a clean record I can board the train without  _ too _ much concern but… I ain’t ever been to the city and neither have  _ you _ … and the bakery is only jus’ picking up business?”

“Them’s some good points… so let’s put all that into one column and in the other column, we’ll put, ‘We do what we gotta, for fam’ly’,” he said with a grin, “We’s foxes, but that don’t mean we shy away from stuff, I mean, remember what Essy said when she found out that them Supai llamas are coming after  _ her? _ ” he prompted, to which Lory happily nodded.

“She said, ‘If they got the  _ cajones _ , then they can see me in court’!”

“After all, ev’ryone else is already in the city… Uncle John and Aunt Jackie, Essy, Nick, Judy, Bo, and Lanny… Travis, too. I know it’s only been a day, but I kinda like havin’ all of them fam’ly and friends about. So how about tomorrow, we’ll make plans for Zootopia and I’ll get a hold of Stu and Bonnie Hopps; they always said they’d be happy to help when business got too busy.”

“Thank you, Giddy. You are just the sweetest there ever was, you know that?” she commended, leaning in to give him a swift kiss upon the lips, only the seventh in the last two days, but it still made both their ears flare up like beacons. “I s’pose I should be gettin’ home, now,” she then said while standing up, and made to straddle her moped, “give my pack the news about where I’m goin’, and all that.”

The fox stuttered incoherently for a bit and twiddled his fingers. “Well… long drive as it-it-it is, you could always… umm… kick up your feet  _ here _ ? My apartment ain’t the  _ Ratz Carlton _ but it’s cozy, and you’re short for a wolf so you should be able to-” he rambled, stopping only with the tip of Lory’s finger touched his dark lips.

“Okay,” she accepted with a single wag of her tail, “Let’s close up shop and call it a day.”

“Y-Yeah!” he agreed with a single sweep of his tail, “Then I’ll get dinner started and we’ll just have ourselves, y’know, a nice, quiet evening.”

* * *

The once quiet evening rang out with gunfire. Officers Hopps and Wilde were hunkered behind the artistically designed grating of an apartment complex gate, off which shots ricocheted.

“How far out is T.U.S.K.?” Nick asked Judy, reloading a cartridge into his sidearm, “Scamper ten paces and then dive a hard right into that stairway. I’ll cover you. And don’t get hit, Bo would never forgive me.”

“Less than a minute,” Judy answered Nick, holstering her own sidearm to brace into a full-on crouch, ears surveying, “Aim for 7-o’clock, 9-o’clock’s gun jammed, that should give you plenty of time to follow. Or get one of them to clip your ear; I’m sure Esther would like the rugged look.”

Wilde peered around the gate for an instant, “Go.” As Hopps raced along the wall, bullets chasing her shadow, the fox spun around to fire on an open window and the criminal inside, deterring them from further violence as they ducked behind cover once more. He swiftly holstered his own gun, unloaded to drop to all fours and then scampered right behind his partner onto the stony steps, laying low and out of sight.

“T.U.S.K.’s around the corner,” she reported with another swivel of her ears and then crept down the staircase to the sidewalk, low profile kept all the while. Nick followed only to crouch again as a small explosion rattled the windows of the apartments they just fled from.

“Oh, smell that?” Nick pointed out, “They’re using some kind of high grade jet fuel.”

“ _ How _ high grade?”

“Military-grade?” he guessed and sniffed again, “Yeah, non-civilian stuff.  _ That _ just complicated our report…”

“Those olfactory classes the wolf pack is putting you through is  _ really _ paying off, Slick,” he said and punched his arm, “How come I haven’t seen you with them recently?”

Nick sighed and lounged on the staircase, off to the side as the heavily armored boars with their tactical gear charged in. A mini gang war had waged after a routine call on a domestic disturbance led to the fox sniffing out a cache of NH Pollen. “Captain Kela was  _ livid _ after Mack was spotted heading to the airport instead of Preds’ Corner, so we’re just… giving him space.”

“ _ And _ acting on your best behavior,” Judy pointed out with a nod at the fox’s uniform, “You’re all  _ ti _ dy and everything.”

Green eyes narrowed at the bucktoothed smirk as he wrenched his tie loose and undid the top button of his uniform. “Alright, enough kidding around, let’s wrap this up and grab from grub, I’m starving.”

“When  _ aren’t _ you?”

“Hey, I have a  _ condition _ , I’ll have you know; I would wither away to nothing if I don’t keep food in me,” Nick argued.

“That’s  _ right _ , you  _ do _ . By the way, have you been doing those exercises Bo taught you, the ones he developed  _ specifically _ for those with  _ muscular hyperatrophy _ ?” Judy poised.

“…Yes.”

“You know you can’t lie to me, Nick.”

“No…”

“Alright, let’s do those exercises together and  _ then _ we’ll grab dinner.”

He groaned.

“And after that, some ice cream.”

“Deal,” the fox concurred as he and his partner returned to their cruiser, “I’ll drive.”

“ _ I _ can drive,” she assured.

“Fine, I’ll do the report.”

“…You’re going to include the part where my ear caught in the air vent, aren’t you.”

The fox grinned his sharp-toothed grin.

“ _ You _ drive,” Judy ceded, “and find us somewhere with tacos.  _ Good _ tacos.”

Nick cooed. “Only the best for  _ my  _ bunny. On the way, you can tell me what your gramps wanted to talk with you about.”

“I told you, he forgot why he called me.”

“Carrots, you  _ know _ a mammal always tells more than by what they say.”

She sighed. “As best I can figure, he muttered something about a ‘white book’ but couldn’t remember where he misplaced it, even with the several dozen white-cover books he already had in his study.”

“Well,” Nick said, “isn’t  _ he _ just the most helpful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the references here are callbacks to previous chapters in Loyal. For instance, Fabienne Growley and Peter Moosebridge are the same news anchors as in the movie (the snow leopard and the moose, respectively).
> 
> Tim O’Nare and Bob Pigg are references to "The Lion King" Timon & Pumbaa, and the most popular shock jocks on Zootopian radio (ZHKNA “No Worries” Radio is, itself, a reference to their motto, “Hakuna Matata” or “No worries”). We delved into their involvement with Memphis and Sarah King back in Brave, chapter 11, and what’s brought up here is their “Dress in Drag and Do the Hula” Luau for Lost Youngin’s, an annual charity event sponsored by the Kings. While the events surrounding Simon King have straightened out the child protection laws twenty years prior to this story, the Luau’s purpose has expanded to represent the kidnapped children outside of Zootopia, as well as children lost to sickness or accidents.
> 
> According to rabbit tradition, as you read here, loved ones who pass away are consecrated their family's farms/gardens to nourish the soil. It is a solemn act and treated with the utmost respect, even if outsiders insensitively mistaken the terms “rabbit graveyard” and “compost pile”; in several, if not all modern cases, the soil is used for flower gardens rather than crops, in memory of those on the other side of Eternity.
> 
> “Sam Wild” is a reference to Samson the lion from “The Wild”. In this story, he is a famous singer and the song, “Summer Nights”, was first performed at the Palm Hotel in loving memory of his mate, and quickly became his most popular hit.
> 
> Esther’s video blog, “Grey Matter”, is something she’s kept up with ever since she could record herself on the phone; one could argue this was done in direct opposition to Goliath’s overt aversion to cameras. The act of recording her activities goes back to when she was a kit and snuck into Gideon’s room while was asleep to awkwardly posed him and snap a picture (Brave, chapter 9). The vlog is only ever about her personal life or opinions, though, never about work and she never mentions anyone by name that she hasn’t asked permission to do so, “upstanding student of the law” that she is.
> 
> The Tweeds she calls out to is a neighboring family of farm-foxes, Tod and Vixey Tweed; they are a reference to “The Fox and the Hound”.
> 
> Her reference to “mamms” is similar to “peeps”, in that it is a slang term for “mammals” (being the analog to “people”).
> 
> This pun would make more sense to a society of animals, but “singular” is the term for a group of boars, ergo, the porcine thugs that accosted John and Jackie.
> 
> What Esther mentions about fox courtships was covered back in Brave, chapter 14, namely the “dance-of-avoidance” where one fox teases and taunts the other fox to make the first move. In this circumstance, one could argue that Esther “won” the courtship because Nick kissed her first, but an astute observer will recognize that Esther did agree to Nick’s terms in the current situation; a win-win situation.
> 
> The bunny spies that Corbin told John about were discussed at the end of Trustworthy and in Brave, about a network of ears run by Grav to make sure that the NH drug test smoothly.
> 
> The “Ratz Carlton” is a reference to the “Ritz Carlton” hotel, a sort of standard for classy living arrangements (and was a reference used back in Trustworthy).
> 
> “T.U.S.K.” was a government strongarm force in the original Zootopia renditions (and according to the artbook, depicted armored boars). For the sake of this story, it is a special task force in the ZPD (still with boars, notably). I’ve not seen anything official for what it stands for (one thing I came across was “Tank Urban Survival Kit”). One thought is “Tactical Unit Strike…” umm… “Knights”? “Komandos”? “K” is a hard letter to put in an acronym… I’m sure it works in Zootopia. It could also be that it was originally a “special task force” that, due to its notable usage of tusked mammals, was called the “special tusk force” and the name stuck.
> 
> Thank you for joining me on this adventure, travelers, I hope you had half as much fun reading Loyal as I did writing it. I’ll see you again with the fourth and final part of The Neverwere Moments, “Helpful”!


End file.
